Sophitia: A Tale of Love
by wickedmetalviking1990
Summary: A baker's daughter is chosen by the gods to destroy a terrible evil. But will that evil haunt her for the rest of her life? Will she ever find an end to her labors? Soul Calibur fic, based on Sophitia's story, throughout all four games. Rated T
1. The Oracle

**(AN: Welcome to the new stage of history, fellow fans of _Soul C__alibur_. I have at last decided to bring this story out, about one of my favorite characters [absolute favorite is, of course, Yoshimitsu, but he's already got a story]. Once more attempting to challenge myself, I will attempt to include quotes by famous people/authors/poets with great relevance to what is going on in the story.)  
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**(So, here we go. You enjoyed _Siegfried_, you loved _The Last Stage of History_, now let's see if the third time is the charm [lol])  
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* * *

**The Oracle**

_"God pours life into death and death into life without a drop being spilled." - Unknown  
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_1584  
_

"Sophitia!" the middle-aged woman called forth from the hearth.

In response to the woman's call, a young woman with hair the color of golden wheat walked into the hearth, where the middle-aged woman, her mother, was helping a middle-aged man place the loaves of bread into the huge oven.

"Yes, _mi̱téra_?" the young blond girl asked.

"Where is your sister?" she inquired.

"She's _still_ not here?" young Sophitia asked.

"We need that flour," the mother replied. "So go find your sister! _Grí̱gora!_"

Sophitia nodded, placed her rolling pin down on the nearby table, then went back out the door of their little bakery shop, looking for her sister.

"Cassie?" she called out. "Where are you? This is no time to be playing hide-and-seek, we have work to do!" She looked about her, down this street of the small town and that, but didn't see much. While looking about, her eye happened to glance up to the _akropolis_, where stood the ruins of a great temple, now used by the Turks as a place of _their_ worship.

* * *

It was strange, indeed, in Sophitia's mind, how this place could once have been the center of learning and culture. But it was true, Athens had once been one of the greatest seats of learning in the Aegean. Even the Romans respected and admired much of what the Athenians had done, and 'freed' Athens from their occupation.

But that was ages ago, back when the old Pantheon of Olympians were still worshiped and feared. Rome had fallen, even the empire of the Byzantines had fallen, and now Athens was just another subject of the Ottoman Empire. It was true that the Turks also admired Athenian architecture, and so did not destroy many of the ancient structures, such as the grand Parthenon upon the _akropolis_, but the Athenians were still not free. They still had to endure Turkish rule and pay the tithe if they chose to retain their own faith rather than that of the Prophet. But for those of the certain mystery cults, which still worshiped the old gods, the greatest insult was seeing Athena's temple used as a place of _their_ worship.

Sophitia was secretly part of the mystery cults. Her paternal ancestors, unlike her maternal ones, were Athenian and worshiped the old gods in secret. Even after one of her distant ancestors married a Varangian woman, their children worshiped both the Aegis and the Hammer as one. Over the centuries, the only indication of any relation of the Alexandros family to the barbarians of the North were fair skin, bright eyes and blond hair. With everything else forgotten, secret worship of the Athenian pantheon soon became natural, passed down from father to son, or mother to daughter in the case of virgin goddess cults, such as that of Athena.

While her thoughts were disturbed for a moment by the sight of the _akropolis_ and what it meant to her, someone suddenly bumped into her. Unfortunately, she was not quick on her feet and fell down into the dust.

"Oh, excuse me," a man's voice said. "I must not have been looking where I was going."

"I'd say," she replied, turning to view who had knocked her down. The culprit was a young man with dark hair, olive skin darkened by his work before the forge, and a strong body, hidden beneath his tunic, sculpted from hours of striking metal against the hard anvil.

"You're the baker's daughter," he inquired. "Alexandros, right?"

"Yes, I am," she returned. The young blacksmith held out his hand and lifted her up off the ground.

"Please, forgive me," he bowed. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

"It's nothing," she said, dusting off her dress. "I'm not hurt." She then looked at him. "If I may ask, sir, what are you doing away from your forge?"

"I'm going to the well," he replied. "I need more water, for the forge."

"I see," she nodded, though it made little sense to her why a _forge_ would need water. Then again, she had never been around one before.

"I must be going," he returned. "Please, give my regards to your father, lady."

She nodded, then stepped aside to allow him to pass, then suddenly remembered her task.

"Excuse me, uh, sir?"

"Please," he smiled. "Call me Rothion."

"Yes, Rothion. Um, have you seen my sister? She's needed back at the shop, and I can't find her."

"What does she look like?"

"She's fourteen, a little shorter than me, with blond hair." At this description, Rothion paused a moment and rubbed his chin for a moment in deep thought. "What is it?"

"I _do_ remember seeing a young girl of your description," he replied. "She was running past my forge when I last saw her, chasing some little animal."

"Oh, good sir, please tell me which way is your forge?"

"Near the edge of town," Rothion replied. "Should be easy to find. There's a placard hanging from the roof, with a hammer and anvil upon it."

"Thank you," she nodded. "Gods be with you."

With that, she took off back down the dirt road that led her back into town. The forge was actually the first thing she saw as she was coming back into the town: it was two blocks away from her father's bakery. She looked about, calling out her sister's name for a moment, but heard no response. She paused for a moment to catch her breath, when she heard the sound of someone crying. Following that sound, she left the forge and came to a small grove just outside of the village, where she saw a tiny little thing leaning beneath an olive tree, face buried in her knees and sobs escaping her lips.

"Cassandra?" Sophitia asked. "Are you alright? Are you hurt?" She knelt by her little sister, who did not so much as notice the new-comer.

"It-It was awful!" the little teenager sobbed.

"What happened?"

"There was this cute little mouse," the younger Alexandros daughter wept. "And-And-And...an eagle swooped out of the sky and killed it!"

"Aww, Cassie," Sophitia returned. "Don't cry."

"But what did the poor little mouse do to that mean eagle?"

"Nothing, Cassie. It was just trying to feed itself."

"By killing cute little mice?"

"Maybe it was a mother falcon, who had a nest of baby falcons to feed. You wouldn't want them to starve, would you?"

The younger girl shook her head and dried her eyes a little.

"Now come on up," Sophitia said, rising to her feet. "We've got work to do."

Cassandra nodded as she picked herself up, dusted off her dress and finished wiping her eyes down before following on after Sophitia.

"Sis?" she asked, as they passed Rothion's forge.

"Hmmm?"

"Why did the falcon _have_ to kill the little mouse?" she asked.

"Because that's the way of things," Sophitia returned. "Some things die so that others can live."

"That's not fair," Cassandra bemoaned.

"That's not very different, actually, from what we do. The reapers bring in the wheat that the millers grind into flour, who then sells it to Father, who makes the dough and puts it into the fire, which then comes out as bread that we all eat. Simple enough, isn't it?"

"It still doesn't seem right," the younger one replied.

"Cassandra," Sophitia replied. "I love you, but sometimes you can be a hand-full. Not everything in life is so black and white, you know."

"It _should_ be," she returned. "Things would be a lot less complicated and confusing."

"Come on, _glýka_," Sophitia said. "We're needed back at the shop."

* * *

In Achelous' bakery shop, his two daughters were busy kneading bread dough, while the older one shared stories with the younger one.

"They were almost out," Sophitia said. "But Orpheus wanted to know if Eurydice was still behind him, so he looked back, and Hades claimed her once again."

"But that's not fair!" Cassandra exclaimed. "He was only worried for her."

"He still disobeyed the gods, Cassie."

"The gods," Cassandra nigh snarled beneath her breath. "A fine day for us when the gods leave us alone."

"Cassandra, what a thing to say!"

"I mean it," she returned. "Sometimes, I wish there _were_ no gods. The Turks and the Christians wouldn't be fighting, there'd be no more tragedies, and young women could sleep in peace without fear of being..."

"Sophitia," the girls' mother, Nike, exclaimed as she walked in. "Are you telling stories to Cassandra again?"

"They're not stories, _mi̱téra_. The gods are real, they're part of our history."

"Still, she's too old for stories." She turned to Cassandra. "Sometimes I worry about you, _glýka_. You're fourteen and _still_ have had no propositions of marriage!"

"What about Sophitia?" Cassandra returned. "She's older than me and you don't bother her."

"She's your father's favorite, he'll bother her." Nike returned. "But you, what shall I do with you!"

"What if I don't want to get married?" Cassandra asked.

Immediately, it was as though she had said something horrible. Nike seemed furious and Sophitia noticed her hand moving towards the rolling pin, and stepped in front of her younger sister.

"_Mi̱téra_, please." she said. "Cassandra was just making a jest."

"I don't like it," Nike replied, glowering as she put down the rolling pin. "You lack discipline, Cassandra!" Muttering to herself in her mother tongue, Nike returned to the oven and her husband.

"You know, you shouldn't antagonize mother so," Sophitia replied.

"What do I care?" Cassandra queried. "They have you, and you get to be the fulfillment of all their dreams."

"She only wants what's best for you."

"Well, maybe I _don't_ want to be married," Cassandra began. "Is that so bad? I'm as fast as any boy, tough as any boy, I bet I could even beat one in a wrestling match."

"Is that what you want to do, sis? Be an athlete?" Sophitia snickered. "There haven't been games on Mt. Olympus in over a thousand years."

"I don't know," Cassandra returned. "Maybe I'll travel. Yeah? See the world. Maybe follow Marco Polo's journey to Cathay, or travel across the sea to the Indies? I think it would be exciting!"

"It's these stories, isn't it?" Sophitia laughed. "It's your culture, and it's given you the desire to travel, to fight, to be a warrior, just like Atalanta."

"Except no one's gonna trip me up with golden apples!" Cassandra replied.

"You know," Sophitia began. "Soldiering and adventure is not all it's made up to be."

"How would you know? You've never left Athens!"

"No, but Achilles did. Do you remember the story?"

"About wise old Patroklos and his lover Achilles? It's my favorite story!"

"Yes, but this happened _before_ they rode off to Troy. See, Achilles spoke to his mother, the sea nymph, who told him that if he went to Troy, he would find adventure, but he wouldn't return home. At first, he heeded her advice and disguised himself among Lycomedes' daughters."

"He called himself Pyrrha, right?"

"Yes, but eventually he was found out and went to war. But then he refused to fight, and so the army refused to fight as well, so Patroklos went in his place and was killed. This eventually led to Achilles going out and being slain as well."

"Why do all the stories end badly?"

"That's just the way of life, I suppose," Sophitia breathed.

Minutes later, Achelous appeared from the oven-room, wiping his hands on his apron.

"Cassandra, go in there and help your mother," he said. She huffed and then went off to do as bidden. "Sophitia, a moment, please?"

"Yes, _patéras_," she inclined her head slightly.

"Sophitia, you've been a great help around the shop. I couldn't be happier."

"Aww, thank you, papa."

"But, there is still one matter that has not yet been fulfilled, which I would like to see while I still have eyes to see."

"And what's that, papa?"

"Grandchildren!" he exclaimed. "By the beard of Zeus, you're eighteen! You're practically an old woman already! You need to get married soon!"

"Papa, please," she replied. "I've accepted the suitors you've brought over, but, I don't know, I still don't feel anything with them."

"It's not about feeling, it's about getting married," he returned. "You know, once we're gone, your mother and I, who will support you, your sister, and little Lucius?"

"Don't worry, I will find someone, if the gods are willing."

Achelous smiled at his eldest daughter. "G_lýka_, I know that you will always make me proud." He kissed her once upon each cheek. "Now, go and have the rest of the day off."

"But, papa, there's still so much work to do!"

"Your sister and your brother can do the rest. Go on, enjoy yourself today. You're still a young woman. Enjoy a care-free life while you can."

"Thanks, papa!" she beamed, then planted two kisses upon his cheeks, then took off from the shop.

* * *

About twelve miles south of the village of Athens, there lies a lake that was once a cave on the side of Mount Hymettus that collapsed centuries ago. Its waters, fed by the fires of the god of the forge, were constantly warm and the cool breeze coming up from the sea made this a small wonder of the Athenian region.

Today, the lake was deserted of all save for Sophitia. Making sure once more that no one was watching her, she approached the edge of the water. With a sigh, she began unloosening her dress. She was not very comfortable with her body, even though she was, as many of this age would describe her, very beautiful and aesthetically attractive. In her time, when bigness was more common and even desirable, she was big in all the wrong places: namely, her bosom. Her waist, however, was a wholesome size. No one ever knew how much she weighed, because she was simply too shy to let her true weight be known.

Once the last article of clothing lay upon the shore, she waded slowly out into the warm waters of the lake. She walked out until the water came up to her hips, at which she dove in face first. At last she broke out of the lake's depths several feet out toward the center of the lake, breathing in the cool, salty air of the sea.

While she was thus bathing, she turned her back to the sea and looked instead at the mountain. At its base, where the lake was formed, there yawned the mouth of what had, in ancient times, been the darkest recesses of the cave. Now they were just a short awning of rock that led deep underground, far beyond the reach of humans even to this day. For a moment, she thought she saw the sun reflecting off the water's edge near the edge of the mountain.

Looking again, she saw that it was not thus. A steady glow of light was coming from the edge of the mountain, like the glow of a torch at night, yet it was mid-afternoon. The light continued to burn, but yet something had appeared from out of it, a shape the likes of which she had never seen before: hideous and yet beautiful all at the same time. It called to her in the voice of a man, speaking her name.

"Sophitia..."

* * *

**(AN: There, how's that for a first chapter?)**

**(Lot's of stuff to swallow, I know, but I wanted to do a long first chapter rather than a short one, as is typical. Once again, bringing the story back to its historical setting. Sophitia's physical dimensions are still those you remember from the game series: it's just that, in the 16th century, that wasn't considered beautiful or even ideal [like with Ivy in _Siegfried_]. The only thing I've added is her pedigree, that one of her ancestors married a Varangian [Nordic people who migrated to Constantinople to aid the Byzantines against their enemies]: this was mostly because I had a hard time believing there could be a fair-skinned, blond-haired Greek person who wasn't Helen of Sparta/Troy. Yes, there are bound to be some 'iffy' moments in this story [like what happened with Cassandra and the monologue about Athens' history]. As far as the latter is concerned, sorry to any Turkish people I may have offended: this is the 16th century Ottoman Empire, not modern day Turkey/Islam. Keep that in mind, please, and judge kindly.)  
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**(As for the last scene, I know the official story says that it was in a 'forest' lake, but there is only one lake in the area of Athens [where Sophitia lives], and that is Lake Vouliagmeni, the one mentioned in this story.)  
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**(So far so good, eh? New chapter will be coming shortly.)  
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	2. Eurydice

**(AN: So far so good, eh? Well, here is a new chapter for our story, one that will see our heroine meet new faces and find the holy weapons [which I would say, having been made by Hephaestus, would make it of equal or near equal strength of Soul Calibur, making it the perfect match for Soul Edge prior to Soul Calibur's return in, well, you know].)  
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* * *

**Eurydice  
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_"I am not an adventurer by choice, but by fate." - Vincent Van Gogh_

The light had dimmed slightly, and Sophitia could now see what it was that had spoken to her. A golden chariot hovered just above the water's edge, as though it were born upon eagles' wings. Within that chariot was an old man with a great beard and crooked legs. His face, ugly yet slightly beautiful, was covered in the black soot of the smithy's forge, and in his hand was a hammer.

"Who...what are you?" Sophitia asked, her hands reaching up to cover her bosom.

"I am Hephaestus," the being spoke. "God of fire and the forge. I have come to you with a very important task."

"Wh-What is it?"

"There is a terrible evil that has awakened," the lame forge-god said. "A weapon of terrible power, called Soul Edge. You must destroy it."

"Me?" Sophitia asked, surprised and a little shocked. "But...but how can I do that? I am but a woman, the humble daughter of a baker. I know nothing of weapons, or...or battling evil."

"You have your faith to uphold you," the god returned. "And you shall not go forth unarmed. Travel to the shrine of Eurydice, on the slopes of Mt. Olympus, there you shall be given a gift worthy to destroy the Evil Sword."

"Wait, please," she continued. "I can't do this. I mean, if this Soul Edge is so dangerous, why can't the gods do something about it?"

The face of Hephaestus glowered in quiet restrain, and then spoke, his voice smoldering in captured anger.

"The gods will not do for man," Hephaestus replied. "What man has the power to do for himself: it is not wise to allow the children never to learn by always doing for them. Nevertheless, Soul Edge was forged by mortal hands; it is, therefore, mortals that shall decide its fate now."

Almost as soon as the vision had appeared, it faded, leaving Sophitia staring at the side of the mountain. The things that had happened recently swam through her mind so quickly, it was numbing. The gods were still there, still watching after the affairs of mortals. Even more so, they still had commands to give to the faithful: namely, to her.

_But I can't do this_, she thought to herself. _It's...it's too big for me. _It all seemed so silly. There were strong warriors all across the world, why couldn't Hephaestus had gone to any one of them? They were prepared to destroy an evil power such as this Soul Edge.

Then it dawned on her that maybe there _was_ a reason why the gods chose her above any one else. She had always trusted in the gods, since she learned about them at her mother's knee. Perhaps they knew that she had the ability to destroy this evil, even though she couldn't see it herself? Even so, the thought of angering or disobeying the gods was not something she entertained even for a moment.

_Eurydice_...

* * *

She made her way back home, even as the day was coming to a close and the shop was being cleaned up. When she arrived at the shop, the first one to greet her was Cassandra, who nearly tackled her sister with a big hug.

"I was only gone for a few hours," Sophitia laughed.

"I wanna go down to the lake one of these days," Cassandra stated. "Can you take me when we're both free?"

Sophitia nodded absentmindedly, for she still had aught to do before she went to sleep tonight. Walking back to the shop, she helped her father with the last minute cleaning. Once all was done, they all went upstairs to the single room above the shop where they all slept. The lights were being blown out as they piled, one by one, into their straw beds. Achelous and Nike shared one with young Lucius, while Sophitia and Cassandra shared another.

As night as settling in, Cassandra was snoring loudly into her bed, while Sophitia was unable to find rest. She had her mission before her, but it was only now, in the quiet hours of the dark, where true council at last shows its face, that she realized just what it would mean. It meant that she would be separated from her family - dear Nike, loving Achelous, tiny, inquisitive Lucius and Cassandra's quirky assertiveness. She didn't know if she would be coming back or not, or even where to begin, other than that she had to find Mt. Olympus. There was such a mountain in Thessaly, this she knew, but this presented even more problems.

She had little money, and so could not stay at any Turkish _han_ on the way from Athens to Thessaly. Nor was she learned in the ways of traveling, and, being a woman, would be a tempting target for outlaws upon the road.

Quietly, so as to not disturb snoring Cassandra, Sophitia raised herself up from the straw bed and walked over to the window, looking out at the night-sky over Athens.

"Gods," she whispered. "Show me what I must do."

For a moment, all was quiet. Only the rustling and crinkling of the dry hay mattresses and Cassandra's snoring broke the otherwise peace that fell upon the Alexandros house.

"Sophitia, _glýka_," a voice called up from the other bed. Turning about, she saw her mother, Nike, leaning her head up toward her daughter. "What robs you of sleep, my child?"

Sophitia could not hide it, not now. Eventually they would have to know, and who better should know first than her mother, who also believed steadfastly in the old gods? She knelt down by the side of Nike's bed and told her that the god Hephaestus had appeared to her and desired her to go to the shrine of Eurydice on Mount Olympus. After Sophitia had finished, her mother sighed with weary resignation.

"I know not what to make of this," she said at last. "But, if the gods command, then they must be obeyed." She then picked up a small purse from a jar that sat by the side of her bed and opened the purse. From it she pulled a few silver coins and gave them to Sophitia.

"May the gods be with you," she blessed. "And may they bring you swiftly back home."

"_Sas ef̱charistó̱_, mother," Sophitia whispered.

"Now, go to sleep," Nike finished. "You have an early start ahead of you." Sophitia complied, returning to her bed, but could not shake from her mind the doubts and fears that still kept her awake. Some time long after midnight, exhaustion finally brought sleep upon her eyes.

* * *

When morning was come at last, Sophitia saw a wagon, hooked up to a donkey, sitting just outside their shop. The driver, a short, round-bellied middle-aged man, was feeding the animal just as Sophitia and Achelous walked outside.

"Father, what is this?" she asked.

"You know Nikos, the miller," Achelous said.

"_Kali̱méra_, Sophitia," the short miller hailed with a smile.

"_Kali̱méra_," she replied: and, indeed, it was a good morning. The sun was just now breaking through, delivering a welcome warmth to the cool of the early morning air.

"Your mother told me about your desire to visit Olympus," Achelous added. "So I asked around, and Nikos has kindly offered to take you as far as Lamia."

"Should take off at least a day or two from your journey if you were going to be going by foot," Nikos replied.

"Thank you, papa!" Sophitia exclaimed, wrapping her arms around her father.

"Just be sure to return soon, once your business in Thessaly is complete."

She planted a kiss on his cheek, then took one last look at her home, the bakery, and her father. Cassandra and Lucius were in the shop, preparing for their business under Nike's direction. She wished she had the time to say goodbye to them. But she hadn't told them everything of her purpose to Olympus, or that she might not end her journey there.

_Maybe I won't have to,_ she thought. _Maybe someone else will be chosen, and I will be able to return home after my visit to Olympus_.

With this in her heart, she sat herself in the back of Nikos' cart. With a crack of Nikos' switch, the donkey set off at a hearty pace. Sophitia's eyes were constantly set on the hovel where the bakery rested: they never left that direction, even after the sight itself disappeared far beyond sight. A part of her, deep down inside, wondered fearfully if she would ever see home again.

* * *

Once the cart reached Lamia, Nikos bade farewell to Sophitia and wished her good luck for the next stage of her journey. As a parting gift, he gave her a few silver coins. Sophitia left, therefore, with more money in her purse than she had ever held or thought she would hold. It would definitely furnish an inn along the road to Olympus.

After leaving Lamia, her road led her through a line of mountains, where she feared exceptionally for her safety. After all, she was clad in her normal clothes, and was unaccompanied: might as well be announcing every mile that this person had gold in their purse. But she was still in her own land and the gods were with her; therefore, she crossed the mountains without as much as one knave to even glare at her.

A long day of marching found Sophitia burned by the sun and very weary. But also, she was now very fearful: while traveling through the mountains, she began to envision that someone was following her. Never within vision, but always within earshot, footfalls echoed just barely within hearing range, then came to a halt when she stopped to listen carefully. No sign yet of who it might be, but she was now nervous and suspicious of every noise.

At last, as the sun was going down behind the mountains in the west, Sophitia found that she could not reach the nearest town before nightfall. This made her even more worried: whatever was following her would surely catch her should she happen to be benighted, which was now almost assured.

Suddenly, she fell to her knees and collapsed on the dusty road, unable to carry on. Already, even before she reached the first town after Lamia, her journey seemed already doomed to fail. As if to add insult to injury, it seemed, the echo of foot-steps was now heard loud and clear. Her pursuer was gaining on her, walking slowly: this one was in no hurry to commit whatever ills they had prepared. Sophitia prayed to the gods to save her, for all other hope seemed to have abandoned her.

"You're a long way from home, _adelfí̱_," the pursuer said, its shadow crossing over Sophitia's face. From the silhouette and the voice, she knew that her pursuer was another woman. But the shadow she cast over Sophitia was most peculiar, for it seemed wholly un-womanly.

"Please, don't hurt me!" Sophitia gasped. "I..."

"I'm not going to eat you, _adelfí̱_," the woman replied. "My people never raise their hands against another woman."

"Another wo..." Sophitia began, then a thought entered her mind. "You're an Amazon?"

"Clever, for an Athenian," the other woman replied. The sound of a sword being returned to its sheath was heard, then a hand was extended from out of the darkness. "Up with you, _adelfí̱_."

Sophitia took the Amazon woman's hand, who lifted her up as though she were a little child. Straightening herself up, she saw that this Amazon woman was a hand's width taller than she, and had arms and legs that looked as strong as a man's: these, of course, were not concealed by any dress, but bared open. She wore armor like a man, but with a breastplate fashioned for her body.

"Thank you, Amazon." Sophitia replied.

"I am called Azola," the armored woman said. "And you?"

"Sophitia Alexandros," she bowed slightly.

"It seems you've gotten lost, Sophitia," Azola said. "It's a long way from Athens, _adelfí̱._"

"Why do you call me 'sister?'"

"Though you are Athenian, it is the proper way for an Amazon to address another of the noble _Gynaikó̱n._"

Sophitia nodded, then continued. "I am not lost, I am making a pilgrimage to Mt. Olympus."

"It seems the Fates have made our paths run together, _adelfí̱_. I also have business on the sacred mountain. Perhaps you would like an escort?"

"Thank you," Sophitia said without hesitation. "So, how far do you think it shall be to the town?"

"Town?" Azola chuckled. "No, _adelfí̱_. We're sleeping outside tonight."

* * *

That night, Sophitia dreamed that Athena, her patron goddess, told her that the strong, Amazon warrior had been chosen to destroy Soul Edge. She was free now to return home to her loved ones. Waking proved that this was only a dream, for the Amazon warrior was still here, lying by herself some ways away from her, and she herself was lying upon the ground. She awoke sore and stiff, but said nothing to Azola. She arose moments later, then they both took their journey onward.

The pace Azola set was fast and unforgiving, which left Sophitia trailing on behind. But they made good-time, and it was not even night-time when they arrived in Larisa. From here, they could see the white peaks of Olympus glowering in the distance: the highest point in all the land of Greece. They stayed at the local _han_ in Larisa, despite the looks the Amazon warrior received from the male patrons.

In the morning, they ate a hearty breakfast, split the payment for their rooms, then prepared to set off on the last leg of the journey. Since they had several miles to travel ere they reached the foothills of Olympus, Azola suggested that they use their coin to purchase horses. Sophitia protested, saying that she had never ridden on a horse before, but Azola insisted: she said that she would ride one horse, and that she, Sophitia, could sit behind her.

While the two of them went off to find their horse, Sophitia could not help but admire Azola's weaponry. It was the first time she had seen a sword and shield of real Greek make: the town guards in Athens were all Turks, and bore the Turkish _scimitar_. She wondered if Azola could teach her how to use a sword, but dismissed this idea as silly. She wouldn't be going through with this: once she reached Olympus, the gods would choose Azola and she would be free to return home.

As Azola found a horse-dealer, Sophitia ambled about on her own for a while, until she saw a young woman about her age approach her. She approached Sophitia and made as though she would embrace her. This was not uncommon, but Sophitia didn't know this person. The woman leaned to Sophitia's left ear, as though she would 'kiss' her with her cheek.

"You have been chosen by the gods," the woman whispered. She then moved to the right ear, repeating the gesture and whispered thus: "Go to the foothills of Olympus, find an old woman with a staff. She will lead you to where you must go. Tell no one you were there, or the curse of the gods will be upon you."

Before Sophitia could even get her questions out of her mind, the strange woman disappeared once more into the crowd.

* * *

On horseback, the road from Larisa to the foothills of Olympus was much quicker. Sophitia found the travel uncomfortable: she was sitting on the back of the horse with both legs dangling off one side of the horse, her arms wrapped around Azola's stomach just to keep from falling off. Of course, sitting directly on the horse's moving hind-quarters did 'wonders' to _her_ hind-quarters. The Amazon didn't seem to care: in fact, she had refused the saddle the dealer had offered her at half-price. She rode bare-back, and didn't seem in the least bit uncomfortable. If only she, Sophitia, could have even half of that comfort.

They arrived at the foothills shortly - _Thank the gods!_ Sophitia thought - and before them now loomed the wooded flanks of the holy mountain, whose snow-capped peak disappeared into the clouds above in the heavens. Azola let the horse run free, much to Sophitia's dismay: though the ride had been uncomfortable, she had no way of getting back without the horse.

"He'll come when I need him," she returned, then set their course to the top of the mountain.

The flanks of Mount Olympus are shrouded in trees, like any of the lowly mountains of the earth. Here the lowest of the clouds broke through, filling the forest with a chill, damp mist. Azola had no complaints about whatever hardships the mountain threw their way, but Sophitia found the travel very difficult and prayed that the going down would be easier.

Once the trees began to fade out, the mighty sides of the mount were now covered in bare rock, the bones of Gaea. To Sophitia's surprise, she found an old woman, weathered like the stones around her, sitting upon a large stone, with a staff in her hand.

"Excuse me," Sophitia greeted. "Are you the one I was told to meet?"

The old woman nodded wordlessly in response.

"Where is this place we're supposed to go?"

Without word or sign, the old woman lifted herself up as much as her feeble body could accomplish. Sophitia and Azola offered their aid, but the old woman made no indication of their offers of assistance. Instead, she lifted herself up to her own feet, then made her wavering trail up the side of the mountain for about four paces. She turned around and gestured to the two young women that they should follow on after her.

The path up the mountain soon became harsh and unforgiving. Snow was seen lying upon the ground here and there, even as the air around them became cold. Very soon the snow was covering their feet, soaking the hem of Sophitia's dress and chilling her toes in her sandals. Every step became worse than the last, and Sophitia found herself not once wishing that she was back home, with her freezing toes warming up against the oven.

They walked until they passed the clouds behind them, and saw that their path came to rest at the foot of a great shrine, made of white and blue marble and gold. The endless song of falling water was heard coming from the shrine, along with the mid-range hum of female voices chanting in prayer.

* * *

As soon as they had arrived at the first step, priestesses in white robes, wearing masks over their faces, surrounded Sophitia and Azola, separating them from each other. Once they were out of sight of each other, another robed and masked priestess appeared before Sophitia.

"Welcome, _adelfí̱_," she greeted. "This is the Shrine of Eurydice, crafted by Hephaestus in the time when our ancestors were young. Before you can go any further, you must be stripped of these filth garments." The masked priestess nodded to one of the others, who removed Sophitia's dress, leaving her shivering in her sheer, white chemise.

"Next, your face must be hidden," the priestess said. "Before the gods, we are all one, if only for this moment."

A mask, similar to the ones worn by the others, was then placed over Sophitia's face. Now that she was concealed, the priestesses led her the rest of the way into this expansive shrine. Through the tiny eye-holes of her mask, Sophitia marveled at what she saw. A grand hallway, like a great gallery, wrapped around the side of the mountain, and had a large gathering place fenced in on all sides by canals of water. These came from two golden statues, each with a golden vase in their poised hands, which poured water down upon the steps into the canals around this sacred arena. A single bridge spanned the canal and terminated in stairs that led down to the gallery below was all there was connecting the gallery to the arena. Looking up at the arena, Sophitia saw a giant marble statue of a man clad in a toga, with a sword in one hand and a shield in the other.

To this arena Sophitia was now led, where the other masked women were gathered around a goat in the center of the room. Once all were assembled, the priestess who spoke to Sophitia first addressed them all.

"The gods have summoned us together, sisters," she began. "Let the sacrifice commence!"

Before Sophitia's eyes, the goat was torn apart and they were ordered to feast from its raw flesh and blood. She obeyed, for she knew that, by ingesting the animal's blood and eating of its heart, she gained its power. Unfortunately, there were several other masked women about, working themselves into a frenzy as they devoured the poor goat. Blood and entrails were flying, and the top half of Sophitia's chemise was soon dripping with blood.

Half-way through this blood orgy, one of the women suddenly cried out with a loud voice. Her face was lifted upward, but she made no other movement.

"Speak, sister!' the first priestess spoke to the entranced one. "Have the gods given you the power of prophecy? A vision? Speak! Do not be silent!"

At last the entranced woman spoke, in her own voice, though her words were slow and a little forced.

"The god of the forge," she began. "He has chosen a champion from among us to fight in his name!"

"Who? Who is that champion?" the priestess asked.

"She must be given the Last Sword from the sacred vaults, it shall be her weapon against the evil she must face!"

"Who? Who has Hephaestus chosen?"

With both hands dripping with blood, the entranced woman stepped forward through the frenzied worshipers, and approached one masked woman, where she wiped the blood on her hands across the mask.

Beneath the mask, Sophitia saw the entranced woman smearing blood across her mask.

* * *

**(AN: I think we can close up the chapter now.)**

**(Another long one with lots of info within, so don't hesitate to ask questions or such in your reviews. I've got more stuff to put on for the next chapter, so don't go anywhere.)  
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**(As you can see, I am expounding on the character of Azola, you will see why later.)  
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	3. Starting Out

**(AN: New chapter! Thank you for the reviews. I think that Sophitia being, as you described her, a 'normal woman', contributes to her _Soul Edge/Soul Blade_ personality. She's a stranger in a strange land, going out of her element and doing things she normally wouldn't done for a quest that seems quite impossible. Of course she wouldn't act like she's stronger than she really is [-cough- Patroklos!])  
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**(Now, where does one go, after receiving the okay from the Greek pantheon and told to find and destroy Soul Edge?)  
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* * *

**Starting Out  
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_"Strength does not come from physical capacity. It comes from an indomitable will." - Mahatma Gandhi_

A new day had dawned upon the eastern slopes of Mount Olympus. Far below, at the shores of the sea, a young woman was bathing in the sea, while her Amazon friend was looking over the equipment that had been given her. Instead of sandals, Sophitia would now wear a pair of boots that went up to her knees. They were made with sandal bottoms, strapped across her legs with many leather thongs. A cuirass of leather with a steel breastplate would cover her top half, fastened at the back and tied to her neck and shoulders. To complete the suit, bracelets, pauldrons and greaves of brass were added, to be wrapped to Sophitia's wrists and ankles and to cover her shoulders.

Looking back from the armor, Azola saw Sophitia rising up from the sea and wading back out onto the sandy, pebbly beach. She was not far from the water's edge, within speaking distance in fact, and was reclining against a large boulder. When Sophitia saw her sitting there, the color came back to her cheeks and she wrapped her hands around herself.

"You needn't worry," Azola shook her head. "I won't look."

Moments later, Sophitia was now resting her back against the opposite side of the rock, her nethers covered by a short white skirt.

"I don't like being seen when I'm naked," Sophitia said to Azola.

"You do know," Azola said. "The athletic games of old were performed without clothes, and on my island home, we perform as such. I mean, it's just us women, who's going to be looking?"

"That's barbaric," Sophitia commented, though didn't sound angry or disgusted.

"What's barbaric," Azola replied. "Is the amount of armor they gave you. This is preposterous! Look at me, I'm wearing as much armor as any hoplite: _that_ is how you go into battle."

"This is not the days of our ancestors," Sophitia stated. "This is the year of our **LORD** fifteen eighty-four. Hardly anyone wears armor anymore."

"Even so," Azola answered. "I don't feel comfortable sending you off into battle wearing nothing more than..."

"Aren't you coming with me?" Sophitia asked.

"No, no, my business is done. I only came to visit the Shrine of Eurydice."

"Then why are you armed and armored?"

"I always go with my sword and shield," Azola stated. "Men are not to be trusted, not even the ones who pretend to have honorable intentions."

Sophitia reached over to the pile of gear and lifted up the cuirass, which she fastened to her back as soon as she could. No need to ask for help, she wanted to get herself covered as soon as possible.

"I wish you would come with me," she said.

"Why? You have your armor and your weapons."

"But I don't know how to use them!"

Azola laughed, then tossed one of the pauldrons to Sophitia. "And you want me to train you before I leave?"

"If you _must_ leave, at least show me how to defend myself."

"Very well, _adelfí̱_," Azola admitted. "Up with you, and I'll show you how to hold your sword and shield."

Sophitia finished strapping the rest of the armor to her body, then picked up her weapons: the Last Sword and a shield dedicated to Athena. Azola picked up her arms, then stood in her ready position. She swung her sword, Sophitia raised her shield to defend herself, but was knocked down into the sand.

"Come, come, up with you!" Azola sighed, lifting Sophitia back onto her feet.

"Did I do it wrong?" Sophitia asked.

"I'll say," Azola began. "If you cannot stand, you cannot fight. Stand with both feet firmly planted on the ground. Again!" Sophitia readied herself, shield held forward and sword in hand. Azola swung, and Sophitia held up her shield. She stayed on her feet! Azola swung a second time, again the blow was guarded: Sophitia swayed slightly from the strength of Azola's blows, but she remained on her feet. A third blow, blocked by the shield, sent Sophitia stumbling back, but still standing up.

"I'm sorry!" Sophitia apologized.

"No, you're doing well!" Azola encouraged. "You're still on your feet, and you've learned a very important rule of battle."

"What is that?"

"If you're faced against a stronger opponent," Azola began. "Give ground, you will last longer." She swung her sword, deflected once more with a dull _thud_ on Sophitia's shield.

"Isn't that cowardly, running from a fight?"

"You're not running, you're giving ground," Azola reasoned, slashing vertically down at Sophitia, who blocked the blow again. "Your enemies will have been trained in sword-fighting for much longer time. Toe-to-toe, an amateur would stand little chance. Give ground, and you'll soon tire them out!" Three blows, all of them blocked by Sophitia's shield.

"Don't rely on your shield!" she ordered.

"Isn't that what it's for?" Sophitia asked.

"Yes, but..." One. Two. Three. "Rely on it too much, and it will break. Lose your shield in the heat of battle..." A horizontal slash, blocked by the shield. "And you're dead."

"What do I do, then?"

"Block with your sword!" Azola swung high, and Sophitia brought up the Last Sword, the two meeting at eye-level. "Very good!" The clang of swords now echoed against the endless crash of the sea.

"You're doing well," Azola smiled. "Now, it is time for offense. Attack me!"

Sophitia leaned her arm back, and swung at Azola, who blocked the blow easily with her shield.

"Faster."

Once more, she heaved the sword in Azola's direction, only to have it blocked again.

"Faster!"

"It's so heavy!" Sophitia panted.

"Your enemy will not give you a chance to catch your breath!" Azola retorted, swinging her sword at Sophitia. Up went the shield, blocking the blow. Sophitia swung again, and the shield blocked the blow again.

"Faster, dammit!" One. Two. Three. Three blows came in quick succession, battering down on Azola's shield like hail-stones.

"You're not using all your weapons!" Azola chided.

"All I have is my sword!"

"You have your shield, it is more than just a guard. Use it!" Sophitia blocked the next two attacks with her sword, then pushed her shield outward toward her opponent. Azola stumbled back for a moment.

"Good," she congratulated. "But there is one last weapon you have to use."

"What is that?"

"Most of your enemies will be men," Azola began, renewing her attack. "Men think they are stronger than women, but you have a weapon that is more than enough of a match for their strength. You must learn to use it in concert with your sword and shield."

"But what is it?" Sophitia asked from beneath her shield as she blocked a strike, then thrust outward with her own sword.

"You should know this one," Azola returned. "You use it day by day, it carries you wherever you wish to go, it holds you up, it gives our kind strength in child-birth. Use them, _adelfí̱_! Use them!"

"But what if I fall?"

"You can't think about that now! Strike! Now! Am I wasting my time with you?"

Amid a hail of blows, Sophitia pushed Azola back with her shield, ran forward, then lunged at her with both feet extended forward. Both women collapsed into the sand, Azola laughing.

"What?" Sophitia asked, pulling herself up from the sand. "Did I do wrong?"

"No, _adelfí̱_," Azola smiled. "You did very well for your first lesson!" She stood back on her feet, then lifted Sophitia back onto hers. "Yes, _adelfí̱_, your legs are weapons as well. A powerful kick can floor an opponent, especially if you know where to kick him."

"I think I know," Sophitia nodded, then laughed at the thought of it.

"I feel well about sending you out, _adelfí̱_," Azola said, wiping the sand off her own armor. "There are just a few things more I must tell you before we part ways."

"Speak, please."

"Keep your sword sheathed," Azola stated. "Only draw it out when you absolutely must."

"I will."

"Lastly, when you _do_ draw your sword, do so with conviction. Think of what you are allowing to live more than what you are killing, and never draw your sword unless you mean to use it. Do you understand?"

"Yes, I do."

"Then I feel that you will do well," Azola proudly stated. "If there is anything I can do before I leave you, please, name it."

"Uh, do you know of Soul Edge?"

"Soul what?"

"That is..." Sophitia hesitated. It didn't fully dawn upon her until now what she was undertaking. She had done her duty, gone to Eurydice Shrine, and now held the holy weapons, forged by Hephaestus, for her task in destroying Soul Edge. But did she _really_ want to undertake this task? She still felt rather ridiculous, holding the sword in one hand and a heavy shield in the other.

"What is it, _adelfí̱_?"

"That is the reason I came to the Shrine of Eurydice," Sophitia said. "The god Hephaestus appeared before me, he told me I was to find and destroy a weapon called Soul Edge. But I don't know where to start looking for it."

"Neither do I," Azola replied. "That doesn't sound like any weapon forged by the gods of our ancestors. As far as I can tell, if you would want to know more about this sword, you should travel to Istanbul. It is the gateway to the East and West, so any knowledge of this sword would be found there."

"That sounds prudent."

"And now our ways must part," Azola said. "May the gods be with you, _adelfí̱_."

They embraced, and were about to part, when Azola, half-way to her horse, turned about and removed something from off her head.

"I would like you to have this," she said, presenting the gift to Sophitia. It was a head-band of plain leather, with a single emerald set within the center, where it would rest upon the forehead.

"Oh, no, I couldn't..."

"Please, I insist." Sophitia eventually nodded in allowance. "You will always be a friend of the Amazons, as long as the Olympians rule. And now, farewell."

And so the two friends parted company, and Sophitia found herself alone once again, the fear of actually stepping outside of Greece on this great quest, this colossal quest that seemed far beyond her power, suffocating her.

Fortunately, Azola had left the horse.

* * *

With her skirt now much shorter, she could ride like anyone else, although her nether-regions were still horribly sore after each ride, and she bought a saddle at the first town she saw. She still had enough coin left from what her mother and Nikos had given her, and she purchased a warm cloak with a hood as well: summer was on its way out the door, and the region north of Thessaly, where she must go, was cold.

At every town and in every _han_, she kept her ears open for news about Soul Edge, any news of any kind. But the trail was bare all throughout Greece: not even a whisper or rumor of the sword. With careful steps she made her way eastward, toward Istanbul, the capital of the Turkish Empire. If any news at all of the whereabouts of Soul Edge existed, it would have been here.

She had little time to explore the wonders of the capital, though the Great Chain and the Hagia Sophia were apparent even from far away. While staying here, she asked at every _han_, every university, and whoever was an authority on weapons. So far, she learned nothing important. At last, she decided that she would have to do the most insane choice she had ever thought of while traveling to Istanbul. For the majority of the trip, she dreaded this choice. However, she had her goal and it was either this, or go back in defeat and face the wrath of the gods.

That evening, she concealed herself with her hood, making sure to hide her sword and shield beneath her cloak, and looked for the nearest tavern. Maybe she could find something there that the respectable inns and _han_s just couldn't give her. It was risky, for she was a young woman, pretty to look at and a virgin, and would be hazarding herself by going into a room filled with drunken men. It was also her last resort.

After discreetly ordering a cup of spiced wine, she made her way to the back of the tavern, closest to the door. Sipping her wine in silence, she listened intently to everything that was said around her by the other patrons. Most of it wasn't pleasant at all: Greek men talking about their exploits on the battlefield and in the bedroom, Turks speaking among themselves in their own language, several travelers and merchants up from the Far East, come to share a drink while conducting their trade. So far, nothing of interest could be found. As she was getting up, ready to leave, she saw two men enter the tavern, order themselves drinks and take a seat just one table down from hers. The first man was Greek, and spoke the language of her fathers. The other man was different: shorter than most, with dark hair and strange, slanted eyes. This man was quite aloof, and it seemed he was here, talking with the Greek man, looking for work.

"Now, Phiripu-san," the stranger said. "What work do you have for me?"

"The Margreave of Barcelona," the Greek man began. "Is raising an army to attack Sir Stefan's castle at Ostreinsburg. Some religious crusade or another."

"Inconsequential," the stranger replied. "Is the pay good?"

"Fairly, but the battle won't be easy," the Greek returned. "Rumor has it, Sir Stefan has recruited German _Landsknechts_ to defend his keep."

"More stains to be cleaned off my blade when the battle is over, Phiripu-san," the strange man replied. "Any news on my _other_ request?"

"Well, that's going to be more difficult to procure," the Greek said. "There might have to be an extra price to..."

"No games, Greek!" the stranger glowered. "Give me what I want now."

"I can't do that! I mean, what you're asking about is practically myth around here. Nobody in their right mind believes in Soul Edge anymore!"

Sophitia's ears perked up at the naming of Soul Edge. Perhaps her journey had not been in vain: this made her even more fearful than if she hadn't heard the word.

"I need that sword!"

"And I say," the Greek said. "Learn to adapt. The age of swords is over. You can't take on armies like you brag about if you've got that little thing and they've got guns."

In one swift movement, faster than Sophitia's watchful eyes could discern, the strange man drew out his sword and pointed its flat point at the Greek man.

"Information," the stranger said, then added in a mocking tone of voice: "Please."

"West! It's further west, that's all I know!"

"You're lying," the stranger replied. "You know more."

"Just put the sword down and we'll talk."

The stranger put up his sword. "Now talk."

"Well, you see, there was a black market sale of rare objects. Some Englishman won the auction, but his ship was attacked by Spanish pirates."

"Were there any survivors?"

"None," the Greek began. The stranger gave him a threatening glare. "Although, if anyone should know more, it would be the White Giant. He's in Naples, in the underground fighting stages. But be warned, he's a monster! No one can match his strength."

"It sounds perfect," the stranger returned.

"But what about Barcelona? Are you still interested in..."

"Don't fear, Phiripu-san, the Margreave has my sword."

Sophitia didn't need to hear anymore. She knew at least a little about Soul Edge's history, and she knew where to find someone who knew more about it. Though this talk of pirates opened her up to another fear: she couldn't go to sea, for fear of attack by pirates. Even worse, women weren't exactly encouraged to take voyages overseas, and, judging by the lecherous grins some of the patrons were giving her when they saw her face, it was highly justified. Her next destination would be reached by land.

* * *

Naples. Soon it would be the greatest city of the Mediterranean, and even now, it was a sight to behold. Seated on the shores of the Aegean, even under Spanish rule, Naples was still a bustling, thriving city. Sophitia marveled at how different it was from what she had visited: if Istanbul had been foreign to her, this was like stepping into another world altogether.

After finding a place to stay, now called inns, Sophitia began asking around about the White Giant. Anyone who knew about it were usually apart of the seedy underground, and they all directed her toward the fighting arenas. However, as soon as she actually saw the part of town where this arena was located, she began to have her doubts.

It was upon one late afternoon, near the docks at the side of the sea. The stands were crowded with spectators, most of them men, but there were some women among them: suffice to say, these women were hardly respectable in the conventional way. Sophitia kept her hood down and her cloak tightly gathered about her person. No need to attract undo attention, especially in a strange city, far away from anyone she knew might be willing to vouchsafe her.

The stage was built after this fashion. Two piers were filled with spectators, with the portion of the dock nearest to land possessing wooden platforms filled with seats. In the midst of the two piers, floating in the water, was a flotilla of small boats and rafts, all tied and lashed together. Atop this flotilla, a stage had been built, upon which the gladiators would have their combat. It seemed to be the most dangerous kind of combat that most had ever envisioned: move too much, and you fall out of the ring, stand still too long and die.

Sophitia was making her way through the crowd, when she happened to knock into someone in the crowd. She was about to apologize, but what she heard from the injured person made her more than a little afraid. Even amid the roar and ruckus of the crowd, when she bumped into the stranger, she could have sworn that she heard the stranger moan and hiss at her. It was as though it could not speak at all, only articulate itself in rude noises.

Turning to look at the strange person, Sophitia saw someone hooded and cloaked just as she herself had been. Perhaps there was a veil as well, or maybe some other kind of halter, such as those that are placed upon horses and cattle, but she could not see even the hint of a face beneath the hood. The only evidence that there was indeed someone beneath the robes, not some_thing_, were the hands. A pair of old, withered and whitened hands reached out of the folds of the robe like the hands of the Grim Reaper: thin, boney and almost devoid of all flesh and fat. The glint of golden bracelets, however, shimmered in the dim light beneath the robes, but Sophitia could not get a better look. The strange figure had disappeared into the crowd already.

Suddenly, the crowds started roaring, chanting "Rock!" over and over. Turning to look at the arena, Sophitia saw a giant of a man walking up onto the floating arena. She doubted not that what she saw was Heracles reborn. The man had arms and legs the size of cannons, browned skin stretched tightly over muscles so large, they were almost the size of a man's head. On his head was a bearskin that draped down onto his back, and his clothing, a loincloth and fur boots, left Sophitia's mouth hanging wide open.

Without a doubt, this was the White Giant.

* * *

**(AN: Could have gone on, but I thought that I should close it up here.)**

**(Lots of stuff here, lots of tongue-in-cheek references to Sophitia's 1P outfits and female outfits in _Soul Calibur_ in general [it was meant to be hilarious. don't take me for one of these people who will boycott SC just because the women aren't clad in nun's habits and don't have A-size breasts]. Another humorous innuendo was the statement about Sophitia not feeling comfortable about her body, at least when it is unclad. Typical modesty [some people actually have it], and also the character kind of getting after me for having her appear naked in all three of the chapters so far. I promise, I'm not doing it on purpose. The time in this chapter was based on her intro from _Soul Blade._** **I promise, she won't be naked ****in the next chapter.)****  
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**(Several other _Soul Calibur_ characters made cameos in this chapter: namely Rock, Mitsurugi and Voldo. I've made it my intent to have Mitsurugi appear [even if in brief cameo] in every one of my _Soul Calibur_ stories. After all, he's appeared in every installment of _Soul Calibur_, even coming back for _Soul Calibur V_ where he had no relevance to the Pyrrha/Patroklos-centric story, he should therefore appear, even in brief, in all of my stories. As for Voldo, his appearance is only cameo. He's already quite old, pushing the age expectancy of 16th century people, but by _Soul Calibur V_, it's just plain old ridiculous! How can he be alive, older than the age average and yet somehow able to be nimble and able to even fight at 67? But, I digress.)  
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**(One last thing: how can Rock be 5'9"? Sophitia is 5'6", but Rock looks much taller in-game.)  
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**(Now give us your reviews, thoughts, concerns. Do you think this should be rated M or is it good enough as it now stands?)  
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	4. Why Do You Fight?

**(AN: Wow, after so many long chapters, here's one that's easier to swallow.)  
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**(While I'm looking up quotes which are relevant to what is going on in the story, I fear in case I should use some quote by some horrible sociopath or terrorist. There are some things I just absolutely won't support, and I don't want to absentmindedly support something I don't believe in. So far, Van Gogh and Gandhi are good and I have no regrets using quotes by them, but I don't want to rely on them solely.)  
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**(Okay, enough. Enjoy.)  
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* * *

**Why Do You Fight?**

_"Conviction is the conscience of the mind." - Nicolas Chamfort_

There was no reason to watch the fight: in Sophitia's mind, there was no question who would win. The White Giant bested all who challenged him, even without his ax, whose head was as wide as a young child is tall. Yet she could not take her eyes off the giant, he was her only clue to the whereabouts of the Evil Sword.

Late at night, after much wine had been drunk and money had exchanged hands, the spectators were clearing out of the arena. Sophitia, however, kept her eyes on the giant, the one they called "Rock". As the crowds started dispersing, she began following the giant, hoping that she might have a moment alone with him.

It was now very late, the tolls of night nearing the hour of twelve. Only the light of the moon gave Sophitia anything by which she might pursue the White Giant. They were alone on the streets of Naples: this was both a blessing and an uncomfortable position. It was a blessing, for Sophitia, in that no one else was present. Some men weren't exactly very lenient when they saw a woman alone at night. To them, the satisfaction of their raging manhood was all that drove them, and in women they saw the fulfillment of that desire, to which they were as indifferent as the food they ate or the wine they drank.

But for Sophitia, she wished that at least someone else was outside this night. The darkness and solitude could be hiding only the gods know how many villainous men, waiting to pounce on a woman alone in the dark streets. She would rather they were out in the open, not quiet and hiding. But there was a more pressing, potentially dangerous, reason that she wished she was not alone in the dark streets, only the silhouette of the White Giant before her as company. They were alone, and the streets were as quiet as a tomb. The heavy foot-falls of the White Giant, along with his ax, dragging along the ground, were the greatest sound: Sophitia hoped it was enough to hide the _pitter-patter_ of her own sandal'd feet on the cobble-stones.

She was wrong.

"Who's there?" the mighty, boisterous voice of the White Giant asked. "I'm armed! Come out! Show yourself!"

From out of the gloom, the hooded and shrouded figure stepped out on command.

"Who are you?" he asked. "I will strike if you don't reveal yourself!"

Here was the moment that Sophitia had been dreading. In all of her journey, she had usually been able to scare away vagabonds just by drawing her sword, or even delivering a well-placed blow or two. Now she was facing the very real probability of fighting a trained warrior, one whom she had seen with her own eyes cut a man in two with his ax.

She threw down her cloak and secured her shield to her arm.

"You will be sorry you challenged me!" the giant began. Suddenly, the ax was up and coming down at Sophitia. She jumped aside, the ax skidding against the cobble-stones. Her sword rang in the dark as she drew it, though it seemed rather useless. The haft of the ax was as long as she was tall, if not longer: it could take off her head at great range, before she could ever get close enough even to kick the giant in his manhood.

The ax swung in a wide arc around the giant: she couldn't get away fast enough. She held up the shield, awaiting the painful moment when her arm would be cut off by the swinging ax-head. The blow finally came, and Sophitia was sent staggering to the right. Her shield-arm felt like the anvil, hot from the hammer's mighty blow. But most importantly, it felt.

She was sore, but her arm was intact.

The giant swung again, and Sophitia easily dodged the blow. It was then that she began to study her opponent. She had seen him fight in the arena; though he was large and his weapon heavy, she knew that he could move and swing faster than he was doing now with her. Every attack he made was easily evaded or dodged. Sophitia could hardly believe it was out of some skill of her own: she was even less than an amateur, in her own eyes.

"Why are you holding back?" she asked, speaking what little Italian she knew.

"I have no cause to fight you, woman," the giant replied with the same.

"Then why are you fighting?" she inquired again. "Don't you have a place to go home to?"

Her unwavering love for her family and her severe case of home-sickness were the symptoms that influenced that question. But it was the right question at the right moment. The giant halted, hesitation in his eyes as he looked down at his hands. Any opponent would strike now, while their enemy was distracted, with a quick killing blow to his bare chest. But Sophitia Alexandros was not any opponent.

The giant lowered his head in seeming defeat, but he did not let go of his weapon. Sophitia kept her hands on her own, fearful that the giant might lash out in anger, his full strength now bearing down against her.

"Your words speak wisdom," he said, his voice deep and gentle. "You have opened my eyes. I thank you, warrior." He turned his back on her, and walked off into the night.

"Wait!" she spoke up. "Rock, is it? Please, don't go! I...I need your help."

"Someone else needs my help," Rock returned. "Someone more important."

"But it's about Soul Edge!"

Suddenly, the giant was up close to Sophitia, one of his hands, almost half the size of her shield, closed over her mouth.

"It is not safe to speak of such things here," he said, his eyes glaring out from beneath the bearskin at the dark streets. "We must get indoors."

* * *

Rock had led Sophitia to an inn, where he told her to conceal herself with her cloak again. As if nothing were new, he led the way into the inn and she followed after him. When they arrived at a certain room, Rock placed his key in the lock and opened the door. Once they were both inside, he shut the door and locked it securely. Then he placed his bearskin upon the nearby table and began to prepare a fire upon the hearth.

"Please, make yourself comfortable," he spoke from the hearth.

"Why are we here?" she asked.

"I thought it would be safer to speak here," he said. Once the fire was complete, he sat down on the bare floor before the hearth. He sat with his knees bent and the feet crossing at the ankles. Sophitia was staring directly at him, imposing and bestial in the glare of the fireplace: his hair was long and filthy, and his face was covered in an unkempt beard.

"Now that it's safe to speak," he spoke at last. "Tell me what you know about the Sword."

"Almost nothing," she replied. "I heard that the Sword is in the west, and that you know something of its whereabouts."

"I'm sorry to disappoint you," he replied.

"So you can't help me?"

He looked down, his face deep in thought, then shook his head. "All I can tell you are fragments, bits of memories I don't even know myself."

"Anything will be helpful," she insisted.

"Why do you seek the Sword?"

"To destroy it. My fathers' gods appeared to me, they charged me with the task of destroying Soul Edge."

"There are many legends about the Sword," Rock began. "Perhaps it is best that it be destroyed. My father was intrigued by the legends surrounding the Sword, and spent quite a bit of his fortune to acquire it."

"The black market auction?" she asked.

"You know more than you've put on, I take it."

"No, not much. Just what others have said."

"That is so, because that much I've learned by asking around. All I can tell for certain..." He paused, his strong, deep voice shaking with something that Sophitia could only suggest would be uncertainty.

"I remember the smell of the sea," he began. "People shouting, running to and fro. Spaniards, shouting in their native language. There was one voice, sterner and more aggressive than the others. I can only assume that was their captain."

"I've heard about Spanish pirates," she began. "Is there anything else?"

Silence followed, as the two of them stared into the depths of the fire. Neither spoke for a long while, but Sophitia was pondering in her thoughts the heat of the fireplace and how it reminded her of the homely heat of the shop's oven. That made her separation from home all the more painful. She longed to see the face of her father and mother, and of Cassandra and young Lucius.

"What will you do now?" she asked.

"What do you mean?"

"You mentioned someone who needed your help," she said. "Who is that?"

"A boy," he answered. "Who will soon be a young man. His name is Bangoo. I'm the only family he has left."

"Is he your son?" Rock shook his head. "He certainly means much to you."

"His family is dead," the giant replied. "I understand that kind of pain exactly. You made me realize that my place is with him. I shouldn't have left him in the first place." He trailed off into silence, then turned to the young woman.

"What will you do?"

"I have to keep searching for the Sword," she answered. "Or else go home in defeat..."

"I don't know if this can be of any help," Rock stated. "But there is a ship named 'the Adrian'. Its captain disappeared roughly the time when my parents' ship was attacked, but the ship still makes berth. Valencia, in the Spanish Empire: though I'm not sure why. It's been a ghost town for over twenty years."

"Thank you, Rock," she said. "I will never forget you." She rose to her feet and made for the door.

"Wait, where are you going?"

"I have my task ahead of me."

"You can't go out at night! Please, stay here."

"I really don't think I should," she returned, casting fearful eyes at the White Giant. If he wanted, she feared, he might be able to force her...

"Please, I insist," Rock said. "The streets of Naples aren't safe at night."

"I...I'm not sure..."

"If it will make you feel any better," Rock said, rising to his feet. "I will sleep outside the door and make sure no one disturbs your rest."

"Oh, I couldn't do that to you! This is your room, it would be too much of an imposition."

"I grew up on the plains of the New World," the giant stated. "I'm quite accustom to sleeping outside. In fact, I actually prefer it."

Sophitia didn't know what to say about this: a roof over her head was practically a given. Why did this person actually prefer to live in the middle of the outdoors, exposed to all the elements, wild animals and bandits?

* * *

**(AN: Look! She kept her clothes on in this chapter! [lol]. For the next chapter, I'm confident she will remain clothed. I know this might seem to be a slow start, but I need to drag out _Soul Edge_ a little. The verisimilitude of the story must be respected [for example, I don't see what's so funny about Admiral Ackbar's "It's a trap!" from _Return of the Jedi_. The audience might find it stating the obvious, but, in the verisimilitude of the story, the Alliance fleet does not know that the Emperor is preparing a trap. They weren't watching the scene where Palpatine said all of this]. Sophitia is new to the lore of the Evil Sword at this point, and therefore, she has to learn its location the hard way, just like anyone else.)**

**(Fyi, I'm not double-standard...ed. Ackbar has that one line, but _every single__ line_ that Legolas speaks in the _Lord of the Rings_ film saga is a statement of the obvious.)  
**


	5. Kunoichi

**(AN: Two words: language barrier. I ignored that in the first few chapters, and was actually able to get away with it, since Greek is spoken in Italy, but now I have to recognize that, for authenticity sake.)  
**

**(Thank you, _ThalieXVII_, for your dedicated reviews. I'm stalling what you mentioned [though it is inevitable, as you well know] because of how I plan on executing that part. _Siegfried_ might give you some hint towards how it will go down, but if you still can't guess it, just wait. It'll be in the next chapter definitely.)  
**

* * *

**Kunoichi**

_"A true friend never gets in your way unless you happen to be going down." - Arnold H. Glasow_

Sophitia awoke in the room of the inn where she had fallen asleep. The giant was still nowhere to be seen, and no sign of struggle could be seen outside. Everything felt well, at least as well as could be expected. She had spent a night with a strong, powerful man less than a bow-shot away from her, and had come out fully intact.

May the gods be praised, she silently thanked.

When she left the room, Rock was there at the door, where he had slept all night. They said little to each other, and ate breakfast in the parlor of the inn in silence. When they were done, Rock and Sophitia left the inn together, walking out to the edge of town.

"Where will you go?" he asked. "West, into Spain?"

"Yes," she nodded.

"Do you know the language?"

"Um..." she sheepishly replied, looking down at her sandal-clad feet in uncertainty. "I don't think so, no."

"You've been lucky so far," Rock said. "Your native language is spoken in parts of Italy, and I assume there have been more than a few speakers of the Italian language in your area?"

"That is true," she nodded.

"You should find someone who speaks Spanish," Rock said. "Before you enter Spain."

She nodded, but didn't seem to have much of an answer to that problem. Then an idea hit her!

"Do you know Spanish?"

"No," he shook his head. "And if I did, my way lies back to the New World."

"You can't stay and help me?" she asked.

"I'm sorry, but I've spent too much time away from Bangoo," he sighed. "Unfortunately, I don't know anyone here, or I would direct you to a translator. Will you please forgive me?"

She nodded.

"Farewell, warrior," he said. "May the spirits grant you a safe return home."

"Goodbye, Rock." she returned. "May the gods be with you." With that, the Greek woman and the White Giant parted ways. He went south, to find the nearest ship to the New World, and she north, to pass over the Alps and come by land into Spain.

* * *

Sophitia was more than lucky that she wore her cloak when the weather started to change. When she arrived at Turin, she bought a heavy traveling jacket, one that would keep warm while traveling through the mountains. In the end, she was more than thankful that she had done so.

She had experienced cold on the slopes of Olympus, but the kind of cold that she felt in the Alps was a thousand times more terrible than anything she had ever known. The cold wind blew up through the bottom of her jacket and into her skirt. Even the boots she had purchased in Turin were barely able to keep her feet warm and sensible. Despite her best efforts, she soon took ill half-way through the Alps, sniffling, coughing and shivering every night and day. One thing was certain: if she could not leave the mountains, she would not be leaving them at all.

Every night, she built a small fire for herself using whatever she could find, in whatever place offered the most protection from the wind. She kept her hands close to the flickering tongues of flame, hopelessly trying to keep herself warm. All the while, thoughts and memories of home flashed back into her mind: the fire reminded her of the warm hearth of their baker's shop. How she missed being away from home, and how much more she wished that she was back home, warm and snug in her bed, having never heard the summons of Hephaestus.

Eventually, the mountains came to an end, and she found herself in a land ravaged by war. This was the region of _Provença_, in the south of France. She did not speak the language, and therefore could not understand what the people said to her, or why these people were in conflict with each other. She therefore determined that it would be for the best if she kept to herself, especially because she was too sick to put up much of a fight if it came down to it.

* * *

A few days in _Provença_ improved Sophitia's health, and by the third day, she was almost back to normal. Though she could neither understand the language nor read much, she had a feeling that she was getting close to where she needed to be. The air became warmer as she followed the southern coast of France.

On the third night of her journey, a few hours outside of Marseille, she was resting by the dying embers of her fire. All seemed at peace, so far, and she was feeling much better. With her shield on her back, which was propped against a large boulder, and her sword in its sheath lying on her lap, her eye-lids began to grow heavy.

But something was keeping her from falling asleep. Somewhere out there, beyond the glow of her little fire, she guessed that someone was watching her. There was no sound as of yet, not a single indication of pursuit. And yet her intuition, that marvelous, all-knowing intuition whose assumptions, more often than not, are correct, be-gifted to women almost from birth, knew that something was wrong around her.

Suddenly, she heard a voice whisper in a language she did not understand. Something cold was pressed against her throat. The voice spoke again, soft and near, but the words made no sense to her.

"Who are you?" she replied fearfully. "What do you want?"

The voice shushed her quiet, but no hand appeared over her mouth. Perhaps that was a good sign: if this was a thief, a murderer or molester, they would most likely cover her mouth to keep the screams from giving them away.

Slowly, Sophitia saw a hand reach in from out of the darkness and take her sword from her sheath. Her hands moved to hold it, but the knife at her throat was pressed a little bit tighter against her.

"I don't have much money," she said, fearing that she was being robbed. "If that's what you're after."

As soon as it had appeared, the knife at her throat was gone. Into the light of the fire there appeared the bearer.

"I won't rob you," the person said at last, speaking the Italian language which she knew. "I just wanted to disarm you."

"Why?" she asked.

"I don't think you'd be willing to talk to me," the stranger said. "If you knew I've been following you."

"Following me?"

"Since you left the mountains."

"Why?"

"Because I know you're after the Evil Sword," she answered.

* * *

The hour of midnight was long gone, but the two women could not sleep. The one had been taken over by the other, and the other was unfamiliar with the cycles of the night and day here in the West, or so she said. From the boulder against which she rested, Sophitia took in the strange woman from the East, the one who had overcame and disarmed her all by herself in the dead of the night. She was now tending the fire, and she could get a better glimpse of her. The first thing she saw were the woman's breasts: though covered by her tight-fitting garments, they were quite large. Her face was covered with a mask, and her hair, black as the night, was tied up in a pony-tail that hung loosely down her back.

"Who are you?" Sophitia asked again.

"Call me Taki," the woman answered.

"You're not from around here, are you?" Sophitia queried.

"I hail from the Far East," masked Taki answered. "What about you, Sophitia-san? Why are you after Soul Edge?"

"Just Sophi...Wait, how do you know my name?"

"I've been following you a lot longer than you'd want to know," Taki responded. "I first saw you in the tavern in Istanbul. I marked your interest in the conversation about the Sword and decided to follow you."

"Why?"

"To tell you to go home," she answered. "Soul Edge is much more dangerous than you might have realized. It's power will corrupt you if you seek it."

"I don't seek to wield it," Sophitia replied. "I want to destroy it."

"Just the same, you're not strong enough to do the deed."

"And you are?"

"I've imprisoned many demons in my country," Taki stated, looking into the fire. "When the time is right, I will be the one to destroy him."

"Who?"

"The wielder of Soul Edge. Unlike you, Sophitia-san, I move fast and no one knows where I am until it is too late. I'm also skilled at tracking people, and you were not the only one whose trail I have been following."

"Who was the other one you were following?"

"Not a person, a weapon. Soul Edge. It's history is impossible to tell, save by those who have wielded the sword. And where are they now? Dead, their souls feeding the eternal hunger of the Evil Sword. As far as my research has unraveled, one who takes up Soul Edge does not die, unless they are separated from the influence of the Sword. If they are not, they maintain a continued existence from the point at which they first took up the sword as their own, gaining strength and longevity greater than normal humans. But at a terrible cost, for the sword devours souls, and corrupts all life around it."

Sophitia listened with rapt attention. Her thoughts, however, seemed to confirm Taki's words with what Hephaestus had told her: Soul Edge had to be destroyed. So far, she had heard the reports of what it could do, and already they sounded frightening beyond belief.

"The last known location of the Sword was on its way to England, when it was attacked by Spanish pirates. The _Adrian_, the pirate ship of the attack, made berth at Valencia: days later, the town was laid to waste, all murdered save for one. It has not left port since then." She turned to Sophitia. "_If_ Soul Edge is there, what hope do you have of destroying it?"

"I don't have much hope at all," Sophitia said. "But the gods of my ancestors told me to destroy it, and I will do what I must." She then turned to the foreign woman. "Will you help me?"

"I travel alone," Taki coldly replied.

"Please, you must help me!" Sophitia insisted. "What you said is true, I don't stand much of a chance against this Soul Edge. But there's no other choice."

"There's always a choice," Taki answered. "Go back home. You're unspoiled by murder and blood-shed: stay that way. Go home, find a husband, give him children and live a good, long life." Sophitia noticed that, as Taki said this, she turned away and refused to look at her. Why did she keep saying this? Why did it mean so much to her that she go back? Was she also chosen by the gods to do this?

What if she _did_ go back? This woman seemed strong enough, even clever enough, to find Soul Edge and destroy it. Everyone back home was waiting for her, she knew this in her heart. It was the easiest choice she could make: throw down her weapons and run as fast as she could back home to Greece.

"The gods chose _me_," the answer came at last. "For good or for ill, it is my burden to carry. I've thought long and hard about returning home, but I know that to go back now would mean admitting defeat: I've realized that I have to do this."

Taki nodded, but said nothing at first. Instead, she looked back at her knife, then gazed off into the eastern sky. Moments later, she placed the shield at Sophitia's feet, the Last Sword lying in its bowl.

"Get some sleep, Sophitia-san," she said at last. "We're still a week from Valencia, and we'll need all the strength we have before we reach the end."

Sophitia smiled, then took her sword and shield and placed them back where they were before Taki took them. Weariness finally overcame her and her eyes began to close in truth. Her last waking thoughts were these:

_Whatever happens, I won't give up hope. Gods, grant me strength._

* * *

**(AN: Yay, Sophitia gets through the chapter without losing her clothes! [lol])**

**(As you can see, I altered the 'meeting' between Taki and Sophitia. Don't worry, it will all be worth it in the next chapter. I sprinkled this chapter with quotes from the game, as well as a reference to _Last Stage of History_, about Taki's sorrow over only being able to be a _kunoichi_. That is why she keeps telling Sophitia to go home: she sees in Sophitia the chance to live a 'normal' life, one she will never have, and she wants her to take that, instead of throwing it away to seek Soul Edge.)  
**


	6. No Regrets

**(AN: Now is come the chapter you have dreaded, _ThalieXVII_. That, therefore, is the basis of the quote I used. I don't agree with said chauvinist pig and his ideology, but it fits with the character who is about to be introduced [here's a hint: if you won as him in _SCIV_, you'd know that he, like Nietzsche, likes the idea of killing gods].)  
**

* * *

**No Regrets**

_"Battle not with monsters lest ye become a monster; and if you gaze into the abyss the abyss gazes into you." - Friedrich Nietzsche_

The following week was one of nervous anticipation. Every mile south became more and more fearful for the young Greek warrior. Health was restored, thankfully, but it seemed of little comfort. Something awaited her at the end of this journey that had laid waste to a whole town all on its own.

The two women left Marseille dressed in hooded robes, bearing with them a donkey that held Sophitia's travel clothing and some food that Taki had bought. The weather was now such that she could wear her cloak over her armor, as she had in Greece. For many days, the traveling was good, and they had no encounters along their way.

At last they entered the Kingdom of Aragon, the westernmost region of Spain. Mile by mile, they made their way south, the Mediterranean on their left. The land in which they journeyed was somewhat familiar to Sophitia. This was because Spain had been ruled by the Moors, who had a significant deal of things in common with the Turks, as far as architecture and spiritual faith.

Once the two women left Barcelona, strange things began happening. Every village or inn they stayed at on the road south became hushed when the name of Valencia was mentioned. People came out and begged them emphatically not to go further south.

* * *

Valencia. Half of the city was in chaos between rebels and the kingship of Aragon: the other half, nearest to the ocean, was a ghost-town. The travelers were allowed to pass through unmolested by the Aragonese, and the two listened intently to what was whispered among the troops. So far, only rumors reached their ears: of one, _Els Reis dels Morts_, who ruled the eastern half of the city. It was said he had haunted that part of the city for twenty years, waiting for _La Hija de la Espada Maldita_, whatever that meant. It was also said that no one who went into the eastern half of the city was ever seen again.

Taki and Sophitia now came upon the dead portion of the city. All was quiet, not even the howling of dogs could be heard. Even the birds dared not fly over the town, nor was the cry of the gull heard as they approached the port. With every inch closer into the town, silent as death, their donkey became more and more nervous, braying constantly and fearful to go any farther. Here they parted ways with the animal, tying him up at an abandoned stable.

When they at last came to the edge of the town, where it met the shores of the sea, they saw only one ship at the dock. It was very large, with a skull upon the stern and the effigy of a bare-breasted woman upon the bow-pole.

"Is that it?" Sophitia asked, pointing to the ship.

"The _Adrian_?" Taki asked. "Perhaps. There's only one way to find out."

"What?" she asked.

"Get aboard," she replied. "It looks like it's preparing to take off."

"How do we get on board?"

Taki led Sophitia into a large warehouse that sat near the port, going in through a back entrance. Inside, they saw many creatures of human form walking about, carrying large crates towards the ship. Taki led Sophitia over to one of the crates, which was large enough to fit a man the size of Rock inside, if he was squeezed and cramped.

"What are they carrying?" Sophitia asked. Taki took out her knife and pried the side of the crate open, revealing four barrels filled with large, round stones.

"Cannonballs," Taki answered, helping Sophitia drag one of the small barrels out of the crate. "Quick, get inside."

Together, the two women removed the small barrels out of the crate and Sophitia then crawled inside the box. Once inside, Taki used her knife to cut a whole in one side of the box, took one of the stones, and began sealing the box up again.

"Wait!" Sophitia hissed. "What about you?"

"I'll find my way on board," she replied. "Don't worry about me."

"But what happens if they find us?" Sophitia whispered, but it was too late. The lid was shut, and all she heard was a dull, thumping sound as Taki pounded the box back together. Then it was gone, and Sophitia's world was pitch black silence in a hot, stuffy box. Suddenly, strong hands lifted her up and she felt herself moving, swaying slightly from side to side. Fear overcame her as the thought of falling became suddenly very real. What if the box were dropped, and it broke open?

_Gods,_ she prayed. _Protect me_.

At last the box was placed down. Sophitia did not move or make a sound as she was thrown unceremoniously down from where she had been carried. The ground on which she lay was unsteady, swaying ever so slightly back and forth. In the darkness, it made her feel nauseous, as if the world were once again flat, swaying gently but persistently back and forth on the head of a pin. Eventually her whole world went black and numb and she fell asleep in the darkness, fearing that death had finally claimed her.

* * *

The sound of tearing wood woke her up from her sleep. She was stricken with sudden fear: she had been discovered! It was all over now. Cramped as she was, she could not raise her sword and shield in time to protect herself from whatever was going to surely rape or kill her.

"Sophitia-san," a woman's voice whispered out of the darkness. "Shh! It's Taki. We're on-board the ship, we're at sea."

_Gods be praised_, she thought. It was only Taki, they were still safe, if only for the moment.

Suddenly, the door behind them opened up. What they saw enter through the opened door was pure horror. A creature, half-dead, its arms hanging low at its sides, its mouth half-open, drooling with hunger. Its eyes were blank, staring unblinking at them, and in its hand was a sword.

It rushed for them, but Taki was too quick for it. In one motion, she passed between the leprous creature like a mirage, and it fell behind her, cut in half down the middle. Sophitia rose from her hiding place, and almost gagged when she saw the hideous half-thing lying broken upon the deck in a pool of its own blood. She swayed slightly, either from nausea or because of the rocking of the ship, and Taki placed her hand on her shoulder to keep her steady.

"What was it?" she asked.

"A mindless servant of the captain," Taki said. "Methinks we've come to the right place. Wait here, I will go above and..."

Before any of them could say a word, more of the half-dead monstrosities barged into the cargo hold. Taki moved among them like a gust of wind, cutting them down in one stroke of her knife. So fast and so deadly was she that these creatures paid no attention to the young Greek girl, clutching her sword and shield in her hands while she watched the battle between the _kunoichi_ and the unholy creatures. She seemed to be quite useless here, watching Taki fight them off easily: she obviously didn't need Sophitia's help.

Suddenly, one of the creatures came after her. Raising her sword and shield, she waited until the creature swung its cutlass at her, before she cut off its arm with her sword. It did not fall, but kept railing upon her with its other arm. She held up her shield, but found herself giving ground, being pushed out of the cargo hold and up one of the stairs. With a kick, she sent the creature falling back to the bottom of the stairs. All too soon it was back on its feet and coming after her. She pushed open the doors behind her, feeling the cold spray of rain and sea-water upon her back, and quickly closed the doors upon the creature. It couldn't come after her now.

Looking around, she found herself on the top deck. This ship seemed to be run by a crew of these foul creatures, who were neither living nor dead. Right now they were moving about their duties, hopefully ignoring her. Outside the rails, she saw that they were out to sea, with nothing but dark, churning waves as far as the eye could see in all directions. What was worse, the pouring rain and crashing waves, along with the blackened sky, lit up periodically by flashes of lightning, told her that the ship was in the midst of a storm.

A sudden burst of lightning was followed by a peel of thunder, then a mocking laugh caught upon the winds from the rear of the ship. The voice chilled Sophitia's heart, robbing it of what hope there remained. Turning around to see who it was, she saw a creature right out of the depths of Hades come to life before her.

The thing was tall, as tall as the White Giant had been: but this giant was not gentle in the least. His clothes bespoke of his title: he was the captain of the ship. His skin was whiter than pure snow, and white was his long hair, his mustache which curled slightly at the ends, and his pointy, sword-like beard. The eyes, however, were what made Sophitia's heart stop: there were no eyes, not like eyes as she knew them. They were white, empty orbs, which, though they were not eyes as she knew them, she knew were staring at _her_, looking into her soul.

The beast laughed again.

"Welcome to the _Adrian_, _puta_," the captain roared. In a flash, moving as fast as Taki, the captain was now standing just a few feet in front of her. "Now, leave your soul here!"

"I can't back down," she returned. "I've come for the Sword." _Gods, protect me!_

Once more, the mocking laughter of the captain echoed over the roar of the storm. "You dare to challenge me?" Suddenly, the captain drew forth _two_ swords into his hands. The swords were unlike anything she had ever seen: half metal they were, along the blade, but they were both covered in some kind of unhealthy growth upon the hilt. The larger of the two swords had grasping hands, like the talons of an eagle, that latched onto the captain's wrist. The other had a single beady eye that darted this way and that, searching for the next soul. There was no doubt in Sophitia's mind that she had found the Sword.

"I will burn you to ashes!" roared the captain.

In a flash of movement, the demonic captain charged at Sophitia. She barely had time to raise her shield into position before a maelstrom of blows bore down upon her shield. Each blow was harder than the last one, until her arm was so sore, she felt as though it had already been broken. She staggered back, still keeping her shield up as best she could. The captain laughed, then again attacked in a flurry of blades, faster than she could follow.

"Silly girl," he roared. "I've killed _children_ who put up more fight than you!"

Again he attacked, faster than before: was there no stopping it? She kept her shield up, but suddenly found her shield arm getting knocked aside with each blow. It was starting to get numb, she couldn't hold it up against the blows anymore. But she had to; he was too strong, too fast, if she didn't...

"Ahh!" she cried out, as the smaller of the two swords cut across her cheek.

"A pity to spoil such a pretty face," leered the captain. "You'll be _begging_ me to spoil it after what I'll do to you!"

The relentless storm broke upon Sophitia once more, with a ferocity matched only by that of the storm around them. Sophitia held up her shield, but the blows kept coming, and her arm was starting to feel numb and useless. A wave crashed upon them, drenching her in salty sea water. The tempest of blades struck her, she took a step back, and slipped on the wet planks of the deck. She was down.

"Hahahaha!" roared the captain. "That's all? I'm disappointed!"

She pushed herself back up to her feet, Azola's instructions still ringing in her head. _Fall and you die_. Back on her feet, she heaved her left arm back into position, ready to take the blows. Instead of a blade storm, the captain's boot kicked her shield aside. The two blades came at her throat like scissors, ready to slice her head off in one swipe. She ducked under, barely missing the blades by the width of her hand. She kicked her foot upward, into the captain's manhood. He cringed for a moment, which was all she needed to get back to her feet and draw her sword, ready to run him through.

But if she thought a mere kick to the captain's groin was going to stop him, she underestimated the powers of the swords he possessed. With the smaller of the two swords, the captain parried her blow, leaving her wide open to be cut in half with the larger sword. She barely had time to move, but felt the sword bearing against her armor. Her side was stinging, but she had no time to examine if she had been hit or not. She noticed that she had an opening.

She aimed a kick at the captain, calling upon all of the strength in her legs to give her whatever kind of advantage she could gain. But the captain was quick, and seized her leg. His hands were cold and their grip was like iron.

"Nice view," the captain leered, looking down her skirt, which was exposed by reason of her up-raised leg. The captain ran his face along her leg, then ran out his tongue, and her leg was suddenly covered by a sickly-cold coat of saliva from the demon's mouth. With a shout of disgust, she swung her sword at him.

_Snap!_ In one painful moment, the captain had twisted the leg in his hands. She fell hard onto the deck of the ship, face down. She tried to stand, but her leg was not cooperating and she cried out in pain as she fell to the deck again.

"Nowhere to run!" the captain mocked.

Sophitia turned herself around, facing the impending doom that marched towards her, taking its time. Placing her weight on her good leg, she hoisted herself up into an unsteady position. The other leg just limped there, aching with each step. How could she keep on fighting this way?

One look at the captain's face and she knew that she _had_ to keep on fighting: keep on fighting or die. She raised up her shield again, the storm of blades broke out upon it again.

_Crack!_ The shield broke into pieces about her, and with it, an ugly red cut appeared on her arm. It was so numb by now, she didn't feel it. But now she feared for her life, for she had nothing with which to defend against the onslaught.

The small sword swung at her, she held up her own sword to defend. But the captain was still moving faster, even faster than before. He wasn't getting tired at all, but she was weary and weak. Suddenly a great pain was felt across the thigh of her good leg. Blood was staining the hem of her skirt.

Another blow, barely parried by her sword. Another one, and she only barely missed it. The large sword battered against her breast-plate: the armor turned the blow, but she felt as though she had been crushed by a heavy stone. Her breathing was heavy and ragged, and her mouth was filled with something hot and watery.

"What's the matter?" the captain berated. "You want to stop already?"

The large sword swung again. She held her ground, sword guarding, and felt as a new gash was cut into her left arm. A fist hit her in the face so powerful that she coughed, spewing blood out of her mouth. She staggered back, a hand reaching up and came back covered in blood. Her nose was broken.

The captain charged again, kicking her in the stomach with his knee. She doubled over, then cried out as one of the swords came down on her back. The blow was turned mostly by the armor, but it dug into her back, cutting from her right shoulder-blade down almost to her stomach. Wearily she tried to push herself back up, but was kicked in the face by the captain. The small sword stabbed down, and she barely crawled away in time to escape. The large sword, and she spread her legs apart to avoid being hit. The smaller sword, instead of stabbing down, stabbed inward.

The breast-plate shattered. For a moment, the captain stood back and admired the broken woman's body, while she covered herself up with her broken left arm.

"Impressive," he leered. With both swords raised, he brought then down on her again. Faced with either immodesty or death, Sophitia gripped the edge of her sword with her left hand, attempting to hold off both swords with the blade of the Last Sword. The strength was too much, and she was thrown backward, back onto the floor of the deck. She was aching, though, from a wound that had cut across the midst of her chest, mere inches away from her heart. A splash of sea-water set all of her wounds aching as the salt made them alive with pain. She could not suppress the cry of agony that escaped her lips.

Once more, the captain mocked her with his laughter. But her thoughts were no longer on the demonic captain, no longer on her wounds, her immodest state, or that she was in the middle of nowhere, on the sea in a storm. Her thoughts went back to Achelous, her beloved father, and Nike, her stern but loving mother. Cassandra's smiling face came into mind, as well as the young, inquisitive face of Lucius. Tears were welling up in her eyes, as she faced the very real truth that she would never see their faces again. Lost and broken here at sea, so far away from them, they would never even know how she died.

"Yes," a voice spoke. The captain's lips spoke, but Sophitia had the distinct impression that it was more than this demonic captain speaking.

"This is the true meaning of despair."

_Gods,_ she begged. _Hear my prayers. Grant me strength. Let me fulfill your will...let me return home to my family!_

"Praying?" the captain mocked. "After I've taken your soul, and what else you have to offer..." He grinned lecherously. "Your impotent gods are next!"

It came into her mind at last, the sheer gravity of her situation. The gods might be immortal, albeit weakened by lack of worship, but this weapon had power to actually challenge them. But could it kill them? She felt the kind of power it had, and it was beyond that of any human being. Could it actually destroy the power of Olympus? If so, then she was the last chance of all the gods, of all of mankind. _This_ was the reason she had been chosen by the gods.

With one last, silent prayer, she summoned whatever strength remained in her weary, bloodied and broken body. Her right leg still could not move, and her left arm was still numb and useless. She could feel, very vividly, every single wound on her body. Just moving brought tears to her eyes, it was too painful: greater pain than she had ever experienced in all of her life.

"Stop struggling!" the captain ordered.

But she wasn't listening: not to the captain and his taunts, not to her muscles, screaming with fatigue, or her body, crying with the pain of every wound. She _had_ to get back up, she had to make her stand. Death awaited her on the ground or on her feet, but there was a spark of hope, faint and dying, that she might, just might...

The captain brought up his swords together, ready to bring them down upon her, splitting her in half. It seemed as though her whole attempt had been futile. But she wouldn't let it end this way, she would not simply wait for the blow to come. With the last ounce of her strength, she kicked herself up with her left foot, then extended her right hand, sword gripped tightly between her fingers, and thrust forward.

There was a sudden explosion. The captain howled in pain, surprised and caught off-guard by the woman's strike. Sophitia's world exploded into new pain, as she lay at the captain's feet, her body covered in what felt like burning coal. Pain was overtaking her, and her sight began to grow dim. A flash of lightning appeared above her, and she saw the shadow of the captain still standing. She had failed. The last words she heard, before she sank into oblivion, were these:

"Come with me to Hell!"

* * *

**(AN: I like cliffhangers. Not to piss you off, but because it gets people interested in the story and what is going on therein.)**

**(Sorry, Sophitia, but you had to take one for the team. The wound she received after her breast-plate was broken is important..._very__ important_, to the progression of the story-line. And yes, Cervantes is quite evil. After all, re-read _Siegfried_: he raped Ivy's mother, he's obviously not going to exercise restraint of his libido on Sophitia "just because".)  
**


	7. Homecoming

**(AN:)  
**

* * *

**Homecoming**

_"Go to foreign countries and you will get to know the good things one possesses at home." - Johann Wolfgang von Goethe_

Sophitia's eyes opened slowly, meeting the stone roof of her house. She sighed in amazement and awe: what a dream! She was glad to be awake, though; the dream ended horribly, with the leering face of the demon-captain looming at her out of the darkness, along with evil voices and horrific scenes worse than she could ever describe. But it was gone, the dream was over.

"She's awake!" a voice said somewhere out of her view.

Suddenly, the sound of feet running up the stairs could be heard. Before she could say a single word, Cassandra had bounded up the stairs and wrapped her arms around her sister's head. Nike was the next one into the room, and she pulled Sophitia into her arms, sobbing and kissing her head.

"Oh, Sophitia, _glýka_!" she wept. "Thank the gods you're alive!"

For a moment, Sophitia was amazed: she thought that she had only been dreaming. Then it all came back to her, even as her mother squeezed her body into her own. The wounds across her body were still aching, even beneath their bandages. She couldn't recall anything after the incident on the ship. Her mind could not remember, but her body could nevertheless: it was more than a dream.

"What happened, child?" Nike asked. "You went to Olympus, but were gone for three months!"

"I..." Sophitia began, but her words failed her. Even trying to recall what happened on the ship was too much for her right now. Her hands were shaking, and her body ached all over; her wounds feeling the sharpest pain.

"Shh, it's okay," Nike assured her. "We'll talk when you're ready." She kissed her daughter, then left the room, dragging Cassandra out after her. The door was closed gently behind them. It was then that Sophitia noticed, hiding behind the door, was a figure hooded and cloaked.

"Who's there?" she asked.

"A friend," Taki replied, removing her hood. Sophitia saw, to her surprise, that the woman's mask was gone. For the first time, she could see her face. The woman had dark, narrow eyes and, though Sophitia was no judge of woman's beauty, was beautiful in its own, exotic way.

"What happened?" Sophitia asked, her voice trembling. "How did...? I thought I was dead!" She buried her face in her hands, weeping as the memories of the demonic captain came back against her will.

"You almost were," Taki said, walking over to Sophitia's bed-side. "Forgive me, Sophie-chan. I failed you, and it almost cost you your life."

"Failed? How?"

"_I_ was supposed to destroy Cervantes, the bearer of Soul Edge," Taki said. "More than that, I was supposed to keep you safe. In the second part I failed: I fear the crew of his ship kept me busy when I should have been looking after you. Forgive me, Sophie-chan."

Sophitia nodded. "What else happened?"

"I fought my way to the top deck, and saw him standing over you. He is dead now, Sophie-chan. You needn't worry; he will never hurt you again."

She breathed a sigh of relief, though the images still would not leave her mind.

"I took one of the boats from the ship and rowed us back to shore," Taki said. "The first chance I had, I examined your wounds. You had taken many wounds, and when you destroyed the sword..."

"What? I...I destroyed it?"

"There were two of them," Taki answered. "The smaller one is destroyed. You did that all by yourself."

"And the other one?"

"Still on the ship. Without a crew or captain to steer her, the _Adrian_ will most likely be broken by the storm: may Soul Edge lie at the bottom of the sea for all time, forever forgotten by the minds of men."

"Aye, my wish as well." Sophitia nodded.

"My greatest fear was you," Taki continued. "Your wounds were very serious: when you destroyed the sword, a shower of hot metal, shards of the Cursed Sword, rained upon you, embedding themselves in your skin." Sophitia's face blanched, and she reached about her body, fearful of what hideous plague was now festering in her wounds.

"I removed all the shards," she finished. "They lie here." She presented Sophitia with a small bag that hung upon her waist by a leather belt. Opening it up, Sophitia saw pieces of flesh-covered metal, glowing red like fire. All at once, she felt weaker, all her wounds aching as if they were new once more.

"Put it away, please!" she insisted. Taki immediately sealed the bag and put it out of sight.

"My apologies, Sophie-chan," Taki nodded. "I didn't mean to cause you more pain."

"How did you know..."

"I can see it on your face," she returned. "When I showed you the shards. Please, forgive me."

"Yes, of course." she said. "So, what happens now?"

"Our goals were the same," Taki answered. "We both needed Soul Edge to be destroyed, and we achieved that goal: together. You may return in triumph to your gods, and I will return to my own country."

"There's something that I've been wondering," Sophitia wondered. "What interest did _you_ have in Soul Edge? Why did you want to destroy it?"

Taki said nothing, but turned toward the door, as though she would leave without saying goodbye.

"There are certain things," she said. "A _ninja_ is not allowed to tell others, for the safety of the clan. You have seen my face, that is more than enough. Suffice to say that I achieved my goal..." She turned around. "With your help, Sophie-chan."

"Why do you call me 'Sophie-chan?'" Sophitia asked. "Before, you called me 'Sophitia-san.'"

"Forgive me, it is the proper way to address a close friend," she replied.

"I'm not offended," Sophitia responded. "It sounds...cute."

"Now I must take my leave," Taki said. She inclined her head to Sophitia respectfully. "_Sayonara_, Sophie-chan."

"Godspeed, Taki." Sophitia replied. She closed her eyes for a moment, inhaling the familiar smells of home, and when her eyes opened up, Taki was gone.

* * *

Days went on, and Sophitia soon was coming back to health. Though she could not talk about the events without some pain, it was not so great that she could think of nothing else. Perhaps the journey, coupled with her fierce battle, had made her stronger in a kind of way that she hadn't known or guessed was possible.

When she was at last strong enough, she told her family all that had happened after her departure, as well as the true reason for leaving. Achelous and Nike were stunned silent, but when Sophitia asked if they believed her story to be true, they remained silent and reminded her of how happy they were to have her back. Achelous told her to get well soon, that the shop would be waiting for her help once she was healthy enough for work. Nike kept Lucius away, telling Sophitia it was unwise to fill his head with fairy tales.

Late one afternoon, while Sophitia was still recuperating, Cassandra waltzed into the upper room and smiled at her sister.

"Feeling any better, sis?" she asked.

"Yes, much better, thank you."

"Mother says you'll be ready to be up and about the shop by tomorrow," Cassandra said. "Must be sad, not being able to just loaf around here, doing nothing but sleeping and resting."

"It's not fun," Sophitia reminded Cassandra. "I want to be working."

"It must take your mind off what happened," Cassandra said, taking a seat on the other bed. Sophitia turned her gaze to her sister, surprised that she had said thus. It was the first time she had heard her speak about her journey since she had told the family about it.

"Wait, you mean you..."

"I'm surprised Mother doesn't believe it," Cassandra said. "She's the one who holds so much faith in the gods, just like you."

"But why are you the only one who believes me? You've never been gullible."

"It's not gullibility, sis. It's optimism."

"Optimism for what? The world is a dangerous place, Cassie. People have no thought to anyone or anything but themselves, and they do bad things just for the sake of it."

"Watch it, Sophie, you're sounding like Father!" Cassandra laughed.

"I've seen the world, Cassie. It's not a safe place."

"Even so, you won't be leaving us any time soon, right? You fulfilled your duty to the gods, right?" Sophitia nodded. "So, it will be good to have you back here for a while."

"It is good to be back home," Sophitia repeated.

"Yes, it is." They both laughed, and for a moment, Sophitia forgot all about her troubles, reunited as she was with dear Cassandra. At last, Sophitia felt back home again. Whatever injury she had incurred in her journey would soon be forgotten, now that she was back in the comforts of home.

"It doesn't make sense, though." Sophitia said at last.

"What doesn't make sense?" Cassandra asked.

"You don't believe in anything you haven't seen," Sophitia stated. "Why are you the only one who believes me?"

Cassandra looked down at her feet, and Sophitia smiled. This was the exact same look Cassandra had given as a little girl, when she was caught with sweet rolls in her apron.

"Cassie, what are you trying to ask? What do you want?"

Cassandra swallowed hard. "I want to learn how to fight."

"What?"

"Like you know how," she answered. "I want to learn to fight."

"I'm done with that," Sophitia replied. "I did my duty and, now that I'm home, I want to live out the rest of my life in peace."

"I know, I know," Cassandra said. "But, well, you know the life of a baker's daughter isn't for me. I want to explore the world! I want to see it all before I'm old and worn out. I'll have the best stories to tell to your children."

"My children?"

"Well, you _do_ plan on getting married, right?"

"I guess."

"Don't say that too loudly around Mother and Father," Cassandra giggled. "They want you married as soon as possible. Preferably before you're twenty, but that's another issue."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Nothing, but still, will you teach me how to fight? Please, _please_, teach me how to fight!" Sophitia laughed at the cute way in which Cassandra begged to be taught the sword.

"How can I ever resist you!" she exclaimed, then pulled herself up off the bed and tackled Cassandra on the other bed. It felt good to be home.

* * *

**(AN: In case you were wondering, I definitely borrowed the 'constant wishing to be home' from _The Hobbit_. Sophitia is not a warrior, or an adventurer [at least in _Soul Edge_], and therefore is constantly home-sick. Now she's back, yay!)**

**(If Cassandra worked with Sophitia at their father's bakery, how did _she_ learn how to fight in _SCII_? That is why I decided to have her want Sophitia to train her. It will also account for the fact that they share many moves, especially in _SCIII_. [of course, the OOU - out of universe - answer would be that she was modeled as Sophitia's replacement, but they just couldn't get rid of Sophitia...until _SCV_, but they got rid of Cassandra as well.])  
**

**(Stay tuned, we are definitely not done here. Lots of story left to tell.)  
**


	8. Nightmares

**(AN: I forgot! Yay, Sophitia remains clothed in the last chapter! In this one, I bent the rules a little: she's still clad, but someone _else_, someone who usually isn't unclad, gets, well...And it's just for this once. I'm not being perverted, just silly.)  
**

**(As far as I can tell, Sophitia only _needs_ to be naked at least once more [twice if you want to be utterly precise, but I don't have to have _both_ instances documented. One can be doc'd, the other just referenced].)  
**

* * *

**Nightmares**

_"For as long as man continues to be the ruthless destroyer of lower living beings, he will never know health or peace. For as long as men massacre animals, they will kill each other. Indeed, he who sows the seeds of murder and pain cannot reap joy and love." - Pythagoras_

_1587 AD_

The hot-springs lake by the sea in Athens saw two inhabitants bathing in its relaxing waters. The cool of the early morning beckoned for the warm waters, and Sophitia and Cassandra answered that call. After whiling away many of the early morning hours in the water, Sophitia emerged and sat on the bank of the river.

"I can't believe you didn't change before you came in," Cassandra laughed. Sophitia was clad in her white chemise, which by now was soaked wet and sheer.

"I'm still not comfortable with showing my body to people," the older sister replied.

"Sis, I'm family," Cassandra rolled her eyes. "What's wrong with doing it in front of me?"

Sophitia smiled, shaking her head. "I'm not a care-free girl anymore. I'm one and twenty."

"Practically an old hag!" Cassandra giggled.

"Cassandra!" Sophitia exclaimed. "You shouldn't say such things. After all, you yourself are seventeen, and it won't be long until you're at my age."

"Hopefully you'll be married by then," Cassandra sighed with playful exasperation.

They sighed, with nothing more to say to each other at the moment. Cassandra thought the idea of marriage was quite ridiculous: spend her life doing what Mother did, that is, if she didn't die in childbirth? Hardly what she had in mind for her future. Sophitia, on the other hand, had seen the world and wanted no more of late nights on a dusty road, constantly alert for bandits, sleeping in the same clothes she wore during the day, going for weeks if not months without a proper bath, and barely any food. It was the proper thing to do, getting married, and she had no qualms about the thought. Her only fear, however, was that she would end up being married to some old man by arrangement. That was still quite normal, and she dreaded being matched with someone...awful.

But there was no time for fears, not when the cool Mediterranean air was coming up from the sea upon the spring-kissed shores of Athens.

"Now, Cassie," Sophitia said, picking up the wooden waster where their clothes had been discarded. "You ready?"

"Do I have to?" Cassandra asked as she waded to the shore.

"Cassie, it's been thre..." Sophitia's face flushed and she turned away. "First, you have to put something on."

Cassandra reached over to the pile and piked up her own chemise, which she slipped into slowly. "Okay, you can look now."

Sophitia looked back, then smiled. "How many years has it been since you practically begged me to train you how to use a sword?"

"Three years."

"And how many practices have we missed?"

"None."

"Good, now get ready." Cassandra reached down and picked up the second waster, then got into her ready stance. Both of the young women had wicker basket lids, which they wove rope through the ends and used as mock-shields.

* * *

Over the past three years, since Sophitia returned home from her quest for Hephaestus, Cassandra had 'bullied' and begged her to train her how to use a sword. Though Sophitia was hesitant and reluctant at first, she relented at last. It was nice to have someone who believed that she had indeed gone and fought whom she said she had: besides, Cassandra could be quite annoying at times.

Sophitia didn't know if she could be a good teacher. She herself was barely experienced: the few bandits she had encountered didn't put up much of a fight, and the only trained warriors she had fought were all circumstantial; one was fighting halfheartedly, the other had broken her. As such, she didn't know if she could train her sister as well as Azola had trained her, if not better. But Cassandra had insisted.

The two young women had not clashed but eighteen times with their wasters before Cassandra's shield broke under one hit from Sophitia's wooden sword.

"Cassie!" Sophitia chided. "How many times do I have to tell you not to rely on your shield!"

"I didn't!" Cassandra exclaimed. "It just broke under the first hit!"

"I didn't hit it _that_ hard," Sophitia said, rolling her eyes.

"It wasn't my fault!" Cassandra whined.

"Just like that vase that just _happ__ened_ to fall as you passed by the potter's shop," Sophitia responded wittily.

In the distance, they heard the bells of a church peeling out the time. Eleven tolls of the last hour of the morning.

"Gods above!" Sophitia exclaimed. "Have we really been out that long?"

"Papa will kill us!" Cassandra said, as she reached for her dress. "Well, he'll kill _you_. You're the oldest."

"No need to remind me," Sophitia said as she began dressing herself as well.

* * *

"_Epitélous!_" exclaimed Achelous with annoyance at his tardy daughters as they entered the shop a few minutes after-noon. "Where have you been?"

"Sorry, papa," Cassandra, the first one back at the shop, began. "We were..."

"I don't have time for apologies," their father continued. "I have to be ready for the afternoon rush, and I have no flour. The busiest time in the day, and I'm out of flour! _Gamó̱to!_I need you and your sister to go down to Nikos' mill and buy as much flour as you can carry." Before Cassandra could protest, Achelous slammed a few silver coins on the kneading table.

Sophitia was not two steps back into the bakery when Cassandra took hold of her arm and dragged her back outside.

"Wait, what is it now?" Sophitia exclaimed.

"Papa wants flour, and he's not in a good mood!" Cassandra replied.

The two ran off from the bakery for a moment, then slowed their pace down as they approached the main drag of the town. Running was a sure-fire way of getting the town guards on your tail, and it meant your hand if they thought you were a thief, which was what Cassandra would have been taken for with silver in her hand.

Now they were strolling through the busy streets of the village of Athens, as though nothing had changed in the past three years. Sophitia looked around her and saw her world as it had been before: ruled by the Turks, with great Athens but a memory of what it was, no more glorious than the ruins that dotted her hills.

Suddenly she saw something else entirely. The dirty streets of Athens became cold, hard, stone floors. The shops and houses became tall, imposing walls of stone, looming as though they would fall down upon her. Etched into these walls were stained glass, depicting horrid images of things she knew would never be crafted in the churches of the Byzantines. Outside of those stained glass windows, the sky was dark, heavy with clouds that promised a great tempest, even with thunder and lightning, but no storm broke out as of yet: only the fearful rumor.

Her gaze was suddenly drawn forward to something looming out of the darkness. It was blue, like the sea at midnight, but its right arm was hideously deformed and engorged, like a horned tick filled with much blood. From the visor of the creature's lofty blue helm, two red eyes glared at her: not the mocking stare of the demon-captain, but a kind of lust and hunger, like a glutton slavering over a banquet table. It was the sword in the beast's left hand, however, that drew Sophitia's eyes. Upon the hilt, some hideous growl loomed like a canker, and a single, red eye was searching here and there.

Sophitia's heart failed her as she remembered all too well that sword. It had changed, but it was still the same great one that had been wielded against her. Its smaller, weaker mate had been destroyed and she and Taki had hoped this had been lost at sea. They were both mistaken. The ancient evil had survived, and as the single eye on the blade of the sword looked at her, she felt all of her wounds as though they were new and freshly made again. No longer was there a doubt in her heart or mind.

That sword was Soul Edge.

* * *

**(AN: Oh noes! Soul Edge lives!)**

**(Of course, you'll know who the Azure Knight is - hint, it is _not_ Graf Dumas [who is _NOT_ Raphael Sorel] and it is _not_ Inferno.)  
**


	9. Called Again

**(AN: Long ago, I was writing a different kind of love story called _Red and Gold_, semi-autobiographical [incomplete version can be found on _FictionPress_]. People didn't like it because it had too much swearing: just come to my house on a regular day, I swear we swear more than the Osbournes [and I'm trying to cut back on it]. Another reason I stopped working on that was because it was digging into very deep, personal parts of my life, which I'm trying to forget and overcome. Therefore, my attempt at writing a romance from the man's perspective crashed and burned [seriously, I've never flat-out deleted a story, but I'm thinking about doing it for _Red and Gold_].)  
**

**(Therefore, for the sake of this story, I shall once again challenge myself by writing yet another romantic sub-plot from the perspective of the woman [lol, 'yet another' refers to the fact that said romance stories have sort of been done to death, because I'm rather new at romances period. Don't worry, it won't destroy the overall story...I hope, lol].)  
**

* * *

**Called Again**

_"Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage." - Lao Tzu_

The nightmarish face loomed out of the darkness, even after the vision ended. Those red eyes, eternally hungry, followed her into every dark dream. The loving faces of Achelous, Nike, Cassandra and Lucius were filled with red eyes: the demon captain sprang back to life, with red eyes glaring out of the bottom of his hat. Now she found herself facing two great opponents: they wouldn't just kill her, they would tear her apart and devour her soul until she was worse than dead. No Elysium or Tartarus, just an endless bondage in the deep, dark void of the pupils of the red eyes.

Slowly, the light came back to her world. The first thing she saw was a young face, olive-skinned but covered with the soot of the forge. Long was his dark hair and dark was the mustache and small beard upon his face.

"Sophitia?" he asked, speaking her name.

She did not even notice that her chest was heaving loudly. She had never been this close to a man before who wasn't family. She could feel the back of her head resting against his knee, and his hands, rough and calloused, upon her head. Whatever had happened that caused her to be in this situation?

"I...What..." she breathed. She couldn't believe how silly she was acting. He was just a boy: then again, there was almost no 'boy' in this young man's face. Young though he was, he looked old enough and man enough.

"You fell," he answered, as if he knew what she was trying with great difficult to ask. "I was just a few feet away and ran to your resc..." He laughed. The Muses could not have made a better sound upon their harps and lyres than the sound of this man's laughter.

"Sorry, it sounds a lot better than it was," he said, blushing slightly beneath his short beard.

"Who are..."

"Rothion," he replied. "You know me. I'm the blacksmith."

She couldn't recall when or where they had met before: perhaps it had been a long time ago, before she had begun her quest to the destroy the Sword. The Sword... The memory seemed like a distant fog dispersing under the light of the morning sun. All the pain was gone, replaced by a burning feeling somewhere beneath her breast. It made her feel so giddy, like she was Cassandra's age and "in love" with every handsome face that passed by the baker's shop. It was a silly, stupid and unwelcome feeling. She didn't want it to go away.

"Well," Rothion said. "Perhaps I should..."

"Help me up?" she asked. Finally words were coming back to her mind, thank the gods.

The hands, strong and calloused, fell down from her face. For a moment, they passed over her breasts. A strange, unnatural desire came over Sophitia: not exactly a desire, but more of an allowance. Usually she was so modest, but for one strange moment, she half-wished that, by accident, his hands would...

The moment was gone, just as soon as his hand wrapped itself around her own hand. Then the other hand was caught up in his hand, and before she knew it, she was back on her feet, practically toe-to-toe with Rothion. One look at his dark eyes and she could not escape. Everything else around her faded into obscurity.

"Well," Rothion nervously chuckled. "If there's nothing else to be said, I should probably get back to my shop." He nodded at Sophitia, then walked on his way.

"Somebody's in love!" Cassandra sang at Sophitia's side. Cassandra! She had plain forgotten about her own sister in that everlasting moment she shared with Rothion.

"Hey!" Cassandra called again. "Anyone at home?"

"Oh!" Sophitia moaned, as Rothion disappeared from her sight.

* * *

Being shot by Eros was never a pleasant experience, so the stories told. The awkward emotions that Sophitia felt during and after her encounter with Rothion were proof positive. It took all of Cassandra's nagging to get Sophitia to go to Nikos' mill, rather than the forge at the outskirts of town, to complete their task. They returned to the shop, each with two bags of flour apiece. Achelous complained that they took their time, then took the flour into the back, where Nike and Lucius would use it for the dough.

"Papa?" Sophitia spoke up.

This caught Achelous' attention.

"Alright, what do you want?"

"'Want?'" Sophitia giggled. "What makes you think I _want_ anything?"

"I'm your father," he replied. "I know you never call me 'Papa' unless you want something. So come on, out with it!"

"Well, um," Sophitia sheepishly began. "You know how Mother and you have been bugging me to get married?"

"And how!" Achelous exclaimed. "You're twenty-one! If you don't get married soon, nobody will want you!"

"Well, that's just the thing, Papa," she replied. "I found someone."

The rolling pin in his hands fell to the floor. Suddenly, Achelous burst into laughter. With surprising speed for his stature and girth, he crossed the floor and kissed his daughter once on each cheek.

"This is-a wonderful news!" he exclaimed. "Who is the lucky man?"

"Rothion Alexander," she replied. "He's a good man, papa. He's the blacksmith's apprentice."

"It's alright, you don't have to convince me," he assured her. "I'll go down and speak with his master, the blacksmith. He _must_ approve of the match!" He kissed his daughter again, laughing and exclaiming proudly as he left the room to tell his wife Nike.

* * *

Over the next several days, negotiations between Achelous Alexandros and the master of the forge were finally completed. At last, it was known publicly in both houses that Rothion Alexander was betrothed to Sophitia Alexandros. Nike was making all the arrangements for their marriage, so much that Sophitia was starting to grow giddier than usual. During shop-hours, Achelous and Nike gave Sophitia longer breaks, which did not sit well with Cassandra and Lucius, but they didn't have much of an argument: they weren't getting married.

One day, while on her way from the market, Sophitia was walking home when she saw a lame beggar sitting on the side of the street, hand held out, crying feebly for alms. Her heart went out to the poor old man, and she gave him six silver coins.

"You certainly are generous, Sophitia." the old beggar said.

Sophitia turned about, and noticed that the beggar was particularly ugly: as though he had been dropped on his face when he was a child and old age had made all the scars all that apparent.

"How do you know my name?" she asked.

"I am the one who sent you on your first journey," the beggar said. "And the time has come for you to depart."

For a moment, Sophitia was about to protest, but she knew better. The old stories said that the gods came to man in human form, whether to offer advice or warning. It was more than possible, especially if Hephaestus, the only god who was known to be lame, had ordained her first mission.

"But I did your bidding!" she protested. "I destroyed Soul Edge, I almost died doing it also!"

"You destroyed the weaker twin of Soul Edge," the old man clarified. "The blade was in two forms, one has been destroyed. The other now lies in the hands of the Azure Knight." The horrific images of Sophitia's vision came flashing back into her mind, driving away all memories of happiness and peace.

"This time, it must be destroyed thoroughly," he said. "Right now, go to your betrothed."

"Why?" she asked, urgency rising in her voice. "What's wrong with him?"

But the withered old man was gone. Even his crutches, which rested at either side, were missing. Sophitia was certain that he could not have gotten away _that_ quickly and quietly. Perhaps...

She ran to Rothion's smithy, where she found him well and away at work.

"Rothion!" she cried out. "Rothion, are you here?"

From out of the forge appeared the soot-covered face of the man she loved, the man she was going to marry. Or would she, now that she had a new commission from the gods?

"Sophitia!" he exclaimed. They ran into each other's arms. "You're here!"

"Is everything alright?" she asked.

"Of course, everything's fine," he said. "You wouldn't believe this, but the strangest thing happened to me today. I was at my forge, working as usual, when the most unusual customer appeared. Old man, walking on crutches. Anyway, he gave me a few ingots of metal, told me to make a sword and shield out of them, after the old fashion. As soon as I looked, he was gone."

"So, what will you do?"

* * *

Months had passed since the appearance of the old man, whom Sophitia was convinced was an oracle, a manifestation of Hephaestus in human form. During the time after the sudden appearance, Sophitia told Rothion about her adventure and the holy quest to find and destroy Soul Edge. To her surprise, he believed her tale, saying that it was important that they trust each other implicitly with everything. Sophitia clung to his every word, and if it were possible, she loved him all the more.

A day came when Sophitia was not found in the Alexandros' bakery. Achelous and Nike believed she had gone to the Lake, or was praying in her room. Cassandra walked about the bakery in silence, anger in her heart at the god she deemed too weak to destroy a threat to his own vanity and pride.

Near the outskirts of the town, a warrior-woman approached the smithy of Rothion Alexander. All that remained of the armor given to her by the cult of the Eurydice Shrine were her pauldrons. She wore a blue shirt with short white sleeves, and a white skirt with a Grecian pattern on the hem in blue. Upon her legs were boots that extended up the knee, and on her wrists were new gauntlets: all fresh from the tanner.

"_Chaláza,_ stranger." Rothion greeted. It brought a smile to the young woman's face.

"Are they ready?" she asked.

The blacksmith brought before her the Shield of the Elk, forged after the exact instructions of 'the old fashion'. Upon its outer shell, the likeness of elk antlers were carved in golden bronze upon a blue field. Next was the Last Sword, whose blade had been broken in the battle with the demon-captain. Now it had been reforged with the _orichalcum_, the gift of Hephaestus.

"When will you return?" he asked.

"I don't know," she replied, tears welling up in her eyes.

As if it were second nature, the two took a step in, wrapping their arms around each other. Their lips met, but Sophitia did not hesitate. There was no need: their parents thought the match was good, the gods approved - at least, Aphrodite did, and they themselves could not be parted from each other.

"Keep me in your prayers, Rothion," she gasped, when their lips finally parted.

"Your safe return," he replied. "Will ever be on my lips as I come before the gods. Till the day I see your shadow cross the threshold my forge."

They kissed again, not willing to part. The moment seemed to last forever, the burning feeling within Sophitia's heart growing stronger and stronger. When at last they parted, it turned painful. Every day away from him would be one spent in tears, she feared in her heart.

The time had come at last. Slowly they parted, Sophitia taking up her weapons and Rothion his hammer. She took a step back, keeping her eyes on Rothion: his face would be her guiding light, her North Star, the constant sign by which she would find her way back home.

If she made it back home, that is.

* * *

**(AN: Horay for another chapter of fully-clad Sophitia!)**

**(Okay, here's something that's always bugged me. I was under the belief that Sophitia's last name was "Alexandros", not "Alexandra". I have written such in my story: however, there came a problem when giving Rothion his last name. If, as the _Soul Calibur wiki_ says, "Alexandra" is the female of "Alexander", how come Cassandra has Rothion's last name, if it is _his_ family name? And if it is Sophitia's family name, what, then, is Rothion's family name?)  
**

**(As with my biblical fan-fics and with _Siegfried_ and _Last Stage_, I wondered who I would use for visual reference for these characters, as though it were a movie? [because I always visualize what I'm reading on the canvas of my mind]. Ethnically Greek actresses wouldn't work in the case of Sophitia and Cassandra, since I've already established that they have Nordic blood. Personally, I had Diane Kruger [of _National Treasure_ and that horrible _Tr__oy_ movie] in mind as Sophitia and Hans Matheson [of _The Tud__ors_] as Rothion. [you know, you'd never believe this, but he's actually one year older than she in real life]. I ask that because I'm leading up to this: who would you visualize as Cassandra?)  
**

**(Story-wise, how was this little romantic sub-plot? Too smutty? I wanted it to sound emotional, rather than physical, but fear I performed sub-par. What exactly should I fix?)  
**


	10. La Hija de la Espada Maldita

**(AN: I'm not exactly sure if I like the author of this quote or not, but it's significant to who appears in this chapter [hint: this character appeared with Sophitia in official artwork].)  
**

**(Furthermore, I've got another appearance to work on, one that you will have recognized if you read _Yoshimitsu: Angel of Vengeance_. Unfortunately, it needs to be adjusted because, in the last version, I made a grievous error: I forgot the language barrier, and other things [might have to go back and fix that].)  
**

* * *

**La Hija de la Espada Maldita**

_"Never was anything great achieved without danger." - Niccolo Machiavelli_

As with her first journey, Sophitia journeyed first to Istanbul, the capital of the Turkish empire. As the capital, it would be the perfect place to find news about the Evil Sword. She started at every _han_, then entered the taverns and kept her ears open for any news of Soul Edge. Several travelers from the Far East had arrived, asking around and searching for interpreters.

However, though no news of Soul Edge was to be found, rumors abounded about a strange creature from Germany, called the Azure Knight. This creature was responsible for great massacres, destroying armies and slaying whole villages all by itself.

While leaving a _han_, Sophitia saw a hooded stranger following after her. The streets were crowded, but the figure was still noticeable. She had spent a week with that hooded figure, and knew how it walked, how it moved.

"Why are you following me again?" she asked, after a lengthy time of being followed.

"Why else, Sophie-chan?" the hooded figure replied. "To offer you help."

Turning around, Sophitia saw the hooded figure approach. She lifted her hood up, just enough so that her face was barely visible. She smiled as she recognized the masked face beneath, and the voice that addressed her.

"Come with me," Taki said. "I have friends for you to meet."

The hooded _kunoichi_ led Sophitia out of the main drag of the city, and to a basket weaver's shop, whose house sat on the second floor. Taki took Sophitia's hand and walked into the shop, keeping her head down as though they belonged. Up the stairs they went, to the second floor.

"Why are we here?" Sophitia whispered. "We're in someone's house!"

"We need to get up." Taki answered.

"Up?"

"Onto the roof."

Taki found a ladder, which she set up by the wooden hatch at the top of the ceiling of the second floor. She went up first, then opened the wooden hatch and climbed outside onto the roof. Moments later, she looked down and beckoned Sophitia up the stairs. Suffice to say, Sophitia was glad she went last: all she had beneath her skirt was a white linen loin-cloth.

Once they arrived at the top of the roof, Taki removed her hood and cloak.

"Well," Sophitia said. "Here we are, the roof."

"Up here," Taki said. "We can get across the city quickly. I have to lose this cloak, it's difficult getting around as it is."

"Difficult?" Sophitia exclaimed.

"One of the curses of having large breasts," Taki commented grimly, looking down at her ample bosom, hidden beneath her tight-fitting red _shozoku_. "I usually wear a leather breast-plate over my suit, to keep everything in control. I tell you, its hell in battle."

"I see," Sophitia nodded.

Taki removed from her cloak a curved Turkish bow, which she armed with an arrow tied with a strong rope. She took aim, then fired at the nearest spire of a tall building. She secured the other end to the building, then turned to Sophitia.

"Get on," she said. Sheepishly, Sophitia wrapped her arms around Taki's shoulders, then gripped tightly as Taki jumped off the building. Sophitia barely had time to scream as they were now suspended over the city. She shut her eyes tightly, afraid to look down at so high a distance, and didn't open her eyes until her feet found solid ground.

"Here we are," Taki said.

"Where?" Sophitia asked.

"You can let go now," Taki laughed. Sophitia climbed off Taki's back, and saw that they were both on top of a building. From here they could see the spires of the Hagia Sophia and Great Chain that spanned the Hellespont. Taki walked toward one of the tall spires nearby and spoke something in her native language. Sophitia gave a cry of alarm.

Something appeared before Taki, something so strange Sophitia had never seen in her life. What appeared before them, on the building, was something clad in strange armor, with a mask over its face. A helmet was upon its head, and a kind of clan flag was upon its back.

For the first several minutes, Taki and the strange, masked warrior exchanged words in their native tongue. Sophitia stood to the side, feeling quite left out among whatever secrets the two discussed. After some time had passed, the masked warrior approached Sophitia, and the young woman felt fearful and nervous before the imposing figure. From its masked mouth a stream of words in his native tongue issued out.

"This is my friend," Taki said. "He is a warrior from the East. He says the road ahead is too dangerous."

"Because of the Azure Knight?" Sophitia asked. Taki translated, and the masked figure responded.

"He says that he's seen things along the way here from the East," Taki said. "He says the evil of Soul Edge is too powerful."

"I've faced Soul Edge before," Sophitia said. "We both have. I won't give up hope of victory, not even until the last moment."

Taki translated, and the masked man nodded, then took a few steps aside. Sophitia, curious for what was happening, walked after him behind the spire and saw the masked man with a strange young woman standing at the edge of the roof. As soon as Sophitia saw the young woman, she suddenly found herself weak and weary. All over her body, the wounds of her first battle with Soul Edge grew profoundly painful, aching as though they had been freshly made. She fell to her knees, one hand over her heart.

"Sophie-chan!" Taki exclaimed, coming to her side. "What's wrong?"

"Ah! It hurts!" Sophitia sighed.

"What hurts?"

"My wounds!"

The masked warrior appeared in front of Sophitia, standing between her and the young girl at the ledge. Suddenly, the pain was gone. Sophitia gasped, slowly rising to her feet.

"Do you need to rest?" Taki asked.

"No, I'm fine," Sophitia assured her.

The masked warrior spoke in his native tongue.

"What did he say?" Sophitia asked.

"He asked if you were well," Taki translated.

"Yes, it's nothing," Sophitia replied. "Just old wounds, that's all." Taki spoke the translation to the masked warrior. Taki carried Sophitia over the other side of the spire, then disappeared to speak with the masked warrior. Once more, Sophitia felt extremely useless.

Mere moments later, Taki emerged from the other side of the spire.

"He has agreed to help us," Taki said. "Unfortunately, this is where our ways will part."

"You're leaving me alone?" Sophitia asked.

"There's a group of young warriors from China come to Istanbul, seeking the Evil Sword," Taki stated. "They will need direction."

"What about me? I thought it was _my_ place to destroy Soul Edge."

"Perhaps," Taki said, rubbing the masked portion of her chin. "Then again, you might be able to serve in another way."

"How so?" Sophitia asked. "I will do what I can, anything."

"The news of this Azure Knight is most disturbing," Taki began. "Fortunately, it has been easier to track his movements than those of Cervantes."

"Who?"

"The pirate captain we defeated three years ago," Taki explained. "He remained in hiding for a long while. We were able to find him only because he decided to go in search of the Child."

"Child?"

"The Child of the Cursed Sword: the Spanish called her '_La Hija de la Espada Maldita_.' My guess is that she was birthed while Cervantes was in possession of Soul Edge, thereby cursing her with his evil blood."

"That's not fair!" Sophitia cried. "To afflict an innocent child with that curse!"

"Cervantes didn't care about fairness, considering how he birthed the Child, and how he fought with you," Taki continued. "Nevertheless, the Child of the Cursed Sword is important because she is infected with the corruption of Soul Edge. After you destroyed the smaller blade, its fragments were scattered to the four corners of the earth. They are all seeking to return to the host and become whole once more. If you happen to find the Child, she will lead you to Soul Edge."

"Thank you," Sophitia stated.

"In the meanwhile," Taki said. "It would be well to visit the towns and villages that have suffered loss at the hands of the Azure Knight."

"I will keep that in mind," Sophitia accepted.

"Now we take our leave," Taki stated, placing her hand on Sophitia's shoulder. "May the spirits of your ancestors watch over you, Sophie-chan."

"Godspeed, Taki. I pray that we meet again in happier times."

* * *

It did not take Sophitia long to make her way down from the building, and once more she was on the road into the west. She chose to make her way towards Germany, where the Azure Knight was said to originate. After asking around in the _hans_ of Istanbul, she discovered that the Azure Knight had a castle east of the Rhine River called Ostrheinsburg. Her travels hadn't taken her into Germany, so she knew not the location of Ostrheinsburg. However, the rumors she heard were hardly pleasing: the outlying villagers had disappeared, and nothing grew or lived within a mile or two of the castle.

Just the thoughts of what awaited her filled her with dread, and a profound longing for home. Just the thought of Achelous, Nike, Cassandra, Lucius and her beloved Rothion, filled her heart with longing and home-sickness.

Her journey took her west, where she would be leaving the Turkish Empire and entering the land of the Holy Roman Empire. In the farthest west of the Empire, in what later nations would call Bosnia, Sophitia was traveling down a country road on foot. For the most part, she was alone.

About mid-day, she heard the neighing of horses and the rumbling of wheels in the distance along the road behind her. Looking back, she saw a carriage galloping up on the road. For a moment, Sophitia's hopes lifted. A carriage meant that whoever was riding was at least a little bit wealthy. Perhaps she could get a ride from this gentleman and be saved the exhaustion of walking several more miles.

As the carriage approached, Sophitia stepped out of the road, waiting for the carriage to approach within range. Soon it was but a few feet away. She ran up to the door, running along side the carriage as fast as her long legs could carry her, and called out to the inhabitant of the carriage.

"Excuse me," she said, speaking in Italian, hoping the inhabitant knew the language. "Would you please pull over? I am lost and would care very much for a lift."

The carriage pulled off the road, coming to a stop just twenty-three feet away. As it came to a halt, the driver stepped down from the front of the carriage. Sophitia noted that the driver was tall and thin, with a hat covering the features and a long, heavy jacket concealing the form.

"This carriage stops for no one," the driver said, speaking to Sophitia in Italian. The voice was strange, deep and yet not as deep as a fully grown man.

"I'm sorry, sir," Sophitia replied. "I just wanted to ask the one inside if I could have a lift. Please, it's a long way and I have no horse."

"If you don't have a horse," the driver replied. "It's your own fault, not mine. Besides, it's dangerous for a woman to travel this way alone."

"What exactly do you mean?" Sophitia asked, her hand reaching to the sheath on her belt.

"What I mean," the driver replied. "Is that you have some nerve, interrupting my carriage. I have urgent business in Germany, and I cannot afford delays."

"Then our paths run the same direction," Sophitia replied hopefully. "Please, I won't be an inconvenience."

"I have no time for distractions," the driver said. "Be gone, or I'll teach you a lesson you'll never forget."

"I don't want to fight," Sophitia replied, her hand gripping the hilt of her sword. "Please, just let me go."

"Not until I've taught you not to step in front of a noble!" the driver shot back angrily.

"Please, sir, I'd rather not fight. For your own good, just leave me be!"

"Or what, I'll get hurt?" The driver laughed, haughty and high-pitched. Sophitia's blood chilled as she recognized that kind of haughty, mocking laughter.

The driver threw aside its hat, and revealed the head and face of a woman, with short-cut white hair and a snarling grin across her face. To Sophitia's surprise, the woman threw off her jacket, revealing a skin-tight outfit of black leather. It was nothing but the thigh-high leather boots she wore, and lashes of black leather that stretched tightly over her voluptuous body. The first thing Sophitia noticed as the jacket fell to the woman's feet were her breasts: even within their leather brassiere, they were quite large, even more so than Taki's.

"Ready?" the white-haired woman mocked, removing from her jacket a short sword that she held in her left hand. Her right, all the way up to her shoulder, was covered in armor.

"Um," Sophitia said sheepishly. "Are you sure you don't need more armor?"

The white-haired woman laughed. "What? Does my gear confuse you?"

"No, but I think _you're_ confused," Sophitia replied. "How do you expect to last long in a fight wearing almost nothing?"

A smirk appeared on the corner of the white-haired woman's mouth, and a flash of sudden pain struck Sophitia's hand, which backed away from the sword at her belt. She reached down to the sword, but suddenly her hand was struck again by the same pain. She pulled her hand back and looked at it: two narrow lines of red were cut into her hands. It couldn't have been this woman's sword, for she was still at least fifteen feet away.

Suddenly, Sophitia saw a sight that was most unnerving. The white-haired woman's sword separated into a dozen segments of floating steel that gathered about the hilt of her sword like a whip. Sophitia backed up as the whip of sharp steel lashed at her twice, then dissipated and turned into a sea of floating shards of metal that gathered about her like flies over a corpse. They seemed intent on blocking Sophitia from moving forward, in the direction of the white-haired woman.

Another hauntingly familiar laugh escaped the white-haired woman's mocking lips, as she casually strolled behind Sophitia. A strong arm seized Sophitia's wrist, while the fragments of metal returned into a single blade, which the white-haired woman placed at Sophitia's throat.

"You were saying?" the white-haired woman asked with a laugh. Sophitia felt smaller than ever: she had been bested by a scantily-clad woman with a snake sword. Not to mention, she was uncomfortably close to the woman's chest, which was pressing against her shield on her back. She had shamed Azola's training without even taking up her sword: floods of shame fell over her.

A powerful kick sent Sophitia sprawling forward face first to the ground. Before she could get back up, a boot dug its way onto her neck, pinning her between the blunt toe and the sharp, narrow heel.

"Now," the white-haired woman ordered. "Get lost!"

The heel was removed, and Sophitia turned about, just to see the woman throw her jacket back over her leather-clad, voluptuous body, place the hat back onto her head, then climb aboard the carriage and set the horses off once again. The ordeal was still fresh in her mind as she dusted herself off and tried her best to clean up the cuts the snake-sword had inflicted.

A thought came into Sophitia's mind as she pondered this horrible woman. She knew that mocking laugh, even if it came from a woman's voice and not a man's. The voice spoke Italian with an air of unfamiliarity, but her voice's mastery over the romantic language was similar to that of another. Then, of course, there was the hair, both unnaturally white. Taki also had told Sophitia about a Child of the Cursed Sword, born many years ago. Was this woman the Child of the Cursed Sword?

If so, then Sophitia knew where she would be going, and now knew who to follow.

* * *

**(AN: Lots of cameos in this chapter, for sure. The first scene was borrowed from _Yoshimitsu: Angel of Vengeance_ and adapted for the purpose of this story. I had to revise the dialogue, since I messed up the timeline of Sophitia's journeys in _Yoshimitsu_: this is _Soulcalibur I_ era, and therefore Sophitia's children haven't been born yet [might have to go back and fix that in _Yoshimitsu_]. The young girl traveling with Yoshimitsu, in case you haven't read _Yoshimitsu_ yet, is a kind of Charade. Her major importance is in _Yoshimitsu_, but it also works for another sub-plot to have her cameo here in this story.)**

**(Yes, that is indeed Ivy who makes her cameo in this story. She is going to Ostrheinsburg to present herself to Nightmare, as we saw in _Siegfried_ [once more, unless otherwise stated, all of my _Soul Calibur_ fics are in the same universe, so events from one will definitely be referenced in the other]. Her depiction is pretty much by the book, with almost no artistic license. How she fights with such [-clears throat-] "baggage" was also referenced: and I honestly think that someone with a sword that can split into a dozen deadly fragments of flying metal doesn't need to bother much with heavy armor. Don't worry, _Witch's Soul_ [which is coming soon] will put her in an instance where her magical Ivy-blade is not enough.)  
**


	11. Lost and Found

**(AN: Not the best quote, but most quotes about the subject I was seeking to talk about were snarky and critical, so I thought I'd choose that one. Also, this chapter really is just to conclude Sophitia's role in the_ Soulcalibur_ era of the story. She doesn't really have much of a part, even according to the official canon.)  
**

* * *

**Lost and Found**

_"No woman wants to be in submission to a man who isn't in submission to God!" - T.D. Jakes_

Sophitia saw nothing more of the white-haired woman with the snake-sword, which was pleasant. The carriage's trail, however, was easier to follow. It journeyed out of the Turkish Empire and went north-west, towards the land of Germany.

One night, she found herself upon the borders of Ostrheinsburg, the cursed city. It hadn't been difficult to find: the townsfolk treated it as the people of Spain had treated Valencia. They spoke in hushed, fearful tones about it, crossing themselves and begging her not to go any further.

That night she sat on the edge of that land was the worst she had ever experienced. Far and away, the sky was heavy with black clouds. The land to the west was in decay: rotting, dying, all form of life leeched away from it, leaving nothing but ash and choked, dead plants in its wake. On the far horizon, where the blackened sky met the dead land, there loomed a river, snaking its way across the edge of the land as black as night itself. In the midst of that river was a castle, dark and ominous. At odd intervals, flashes of fire would shoot up from the castle, reflecting against the clouds in a macabre flash of red corpse-light: a kind of unhealthy glow that gave neither light nor warmth.

So did Sophitia Alexandros come upon the cursed city of Ostrheinsburg, a blot of darkness in the Holy Roman Empire. With each mile closer to the city, her wounds began to ache more and more painfully. Now that she was within sight of the city, she was almost immobilized by pain. Lying down against a boulder outside of the dead land, she tried to recover herself.

But it was futile. She fought to breathe against the pain, sharper than any cut of knife or sword she had ever experienced in all of her days. The pain was so great, she felt as though she were being torn apart at the chest.

_Is this the end?_ she thought. _Am I to die here, in some foreign land, separated from my loved ones and family, unable to die fighting? Was she to have lived a life of devotion and faith, only to find her last deed to the gods unfulfilled?_

One thing of which she was certain, however, was that the closer she got to that damnable place, the worse her wounds ached. She turned her gaze back to the east, and began crawling on her hands and knees as far away from the castle as her strength could allow. Slowly she traveled, inch by inch, feeling as though she were to crawl across the whole world on her hands and knees ere she found relief. But still the pain in her chest was as profound and persistent as ever.

_Gods_, she prayed. _Give me strength!_

Slowly, she began to feel her tired muscles growing stronger. Her breathing became easier; not suddenly, but gradually, with each inch she crawled forward. By and by, she was able to stand up and trudge forward unsteadily. Her breathing did not return to normal until the cursed city was out of sight. She sighed, happy that her pain was gone, but unsure for her future.

_I am safe_, she thought. _But for how long? This this how I will spend the rest of my days, in constant agony, wounds unable to heal?_

* * *

_November 26th, 1587 AD_

Unable to go once more against the cursed city, where the Nightmare glowered, Sophitia did as Taki had instructed. She went from place to place among the peoples of Europe who had been afflicted by the Azure Knight. While on her journey, she learned some of the languages of the people she met and helped. Though mostly illiterate, Sophitia's capacity for listening and patience gave her the skill needed to understand new languages: very soon, she could not only speak Greek and Italian, but modest dosages of German and some English.

Though she administered care and military support to the people who had lost loved ones at the hands of the Azure Knight, she was still unable to go openly to war against Ostrheinsburg. She saw many warriors from around the world gather for battle upon battle against the cursed city, and though she wished them well and prayed to the gods for their success, she was unable to follow them.

One night, though, close to the hour of midnight, she lay restless in her straw bed. Ever and anon, she would look out of her window westward, towards the Rhine River. On its banks she knew the cursed city lay, devouring whole nations with its evil. She could not rest for the thought that it was her mandate to destroy Soul Edge, yet she was prevented from doing so by reason of her wounds: so close and yet so far.

Tonight, however, she lay in thought, her hand pressed over her heart. Most of the wounds had healed up, leaving nothing more than scars across her body from where she had been stricken. One, however, seemed to always pain her: it was right above her heart, between her breasts, where the demon-captain Cervantes had struck her with Soul Edge. All that remained was a small line of a scar, embarrassing but no less healed than her other scars. The pain, however, never seemed to die. It grew strong when she was around those afflicted by Soul Edge or corrupted by it, and, of all her scars, caused her the greatest pain when in close proximity to shards of Soul Edge.

In the distance, the church bell tolled the hour of midnight. Slowly, the pain in her bosom began to subside. It was like a miracle, something she had prayed over for months, nay years, and had only now come true. Sleep came to her eyes, the first time she felt truly at peace in many years: her wounds ached no more, and she drifted off into a peaceful, dreamless slumber.

When morning came, Sophitia was up and about as usual. At the village she was staying, news slowly came in of a great battle fought at Ostrheinsburg, and the power of that place had finally been broken. It was too much to believe, especially since, for the past three years, Sophitia had known that Soul Edge was capable of coming back, even from a mortal wound. However, in her heart, she was truly tired of adventures. The warrior's path was long and lonely, and she wanted the love of a family, of her beloved. But at the same time, she could not abandon her commission unless, unless...

Unless she knew for certain that Soul Edge was destroyed. There was only one way to be certain of that, and to do so would surely mean her death.

It was with great reluctance that Sophitia finally made her way to the castle upon the Rhine. Her eyes saw before her a desolated valley, dry and bereft of life. But there was nothing unnatural about this desolation: it could have been any desert, or wilderness, barren and long forgotten by the clouds of rain. No pain grew within her bosom as she looked toward the river, nor as she approached the river on her horse. At last the castle was in view: a ruined wreck, a forlorn memento of the glory it had once been, striding across an island in the midst of the river. It held only the glory and grandeur that all such monuments of stone possess, but nothing unnatural about the city remained.

Sophitia sighed, quietly thanking the gods. The city was forsaken, the evil presence gone. At last, it seemed, her duty was done.

* * *

In Athens, a young blacksmith was working in his smithy. He had not seen his betrothed in months. Every day she was away felt like a year and twenty more. Since work took his mind off his troubles, he buried himself in his work. Yet no matter how hard he struck the anvil, how keenly he crafted the steel, the face of his beloved remained engraved in his mind.

One day, while he was busy with his work, he happened to drop his hammer in his furious pounding upon the anvil. Perhaps it was frustration at the separation from his beloved, or with the metal with which he was working. He leaned over to pick up his hammer, and, by some chance, his eyes happened to gaze up at the entrance of his forge. All thoughts of his hammer were now lost.

"You said you would pray for me," a familiar voice, like that of Aphrodite, spoke to him. "Every day we were apart."

Without an answer, Rothion ran across his forge and caught Sophitia up in his arms. They laughed so hard, tears were dripping down their faces. They didn't waste much time moving their mouths to each other, once their arms enjoyed as much of each other as they desired.

"Sophitia," he whispered, parting for only a moment. "Thank the gods you've returned!"

"I have...good news," Sophitia said, in between kisses. "The mandate of the gods is fulfilled. I will have peace from now on."

"_We_ will have peace," he returned. "You do remember, don't you?"

"As far as I'm concerned," Sophitia replied. "We're already married. There's just the ceremony, once winter comes. And we'll have to go to the Shrine of Eurydice, to receive the blessing of the gods."

For a moment, she feared she had misspoken. He took a step back, an amazed look of surprise on his face.

"You believe in the gods?" he asked.

"I have always believed in them," she responded, fearful of what may happen next.

"So have I," he returned.

Their bodies wrapped around each other once more. Neither of them had been with each other for so many months, and now their wait was over. They would be together forever, in this life and the next.

* * *

**(AN: Did it work? Was it too sappy?)**

**(Was listening [passively] to the soundtrack of the 1999 Disney film _Tarzan_ while finishing up this chapter, all the 'love' and whatnot. I repeat, romances aren't my strong-suit. Therefore, I welcome, advise, encourage and, one step short of 'demand', insist that you review. Tear my romantic story-telling apart, show me my faults, so that I might write better romances for the future! I welcome it...nay, I _dare_ you to do it!)  
**

**(Lol, well, the reviewing front has been quiet, so I thought I'd give you all some encouragement. [but i bet you'd be okay with virtual sweets, ;)].)  
**


	12. Blood

**(AN: Rather interesting chapter title, to be certain.)  
**

**(Thank you, _ThalieXVII_, for finding that for me. Hope I don't make any more stupid errors like that :p)  
**

* * *

**Blood**

_"The soul is healed by being with children." - Fyodor Dostoyevsky_

December passed by so quickly after Sophitia's return, that the New Year was already upon them before any _real_ plans for a wedding were carried out. They had very little time for themselves, the young couple, for as soon as it was rumored that Sophitia Alexandros had returned to Athens, her family closed down their shop and came out to meet her. Of course, they were happy to see her standing on her feet, well and unharmed, but they didn't believe her story any more now, even when they saw her with her sword and shield in hand.

All except for Cassandra, who gave Sophitia a playful wink as they parted their embrace.

A day came in Athens when an unusual flag was placed outside the Alexandros house. Within the week, the whole village knew that there would soon be a wedding.

**-~-I-|-O-|-I-~-**

_January 3rd, 1588_

In the house of the Alexandros family, Nike and Cassandra were making sure Sophitia was ready for her big day. She stood between her mother and sister, clad in a clean, white chemise, with her long, golden hair flowing freely down her back. Nike told Cassandra to get herself ready for the duties of the _koumbara_. Once she was all alone with her daughter, Nike embraced her.

"Today, you begin your life as a married woman," Nike said. "I'm so proud of you, _glýka_." She wiped her eyes of the tears of joy that were now welling up. "I have something for you."

She walked over to the trunk that sat at the foot of the bed that she shared with Achelous. Opening it up, she produced the most beautiful dress Sophitia had ever seen. It was made of white linen, embroidered with blue such that it was hard to tell where the white began and the blue ended: like a sea of shimmering colors. The skirt had at least two layers to it, with the second, outermost layer made of sheer, green fabric. A red scarf also was with the dress, which would be hung loosely about the neck. So did Sophitia see for the first time the dress which her mother had kept hidden for so many years.

"_Mi̱téra!_" Sophitia exclaimed. "Why, it's beautiful!"

"It's yours now, child," Nike said. "Your wedding garment."

"Oh, Mother," she returned. "I could never..."

"My mother gave this to me when I married your father," Nike began. "It has been passed down from generation to generation through the women of my family. I was saving it for just this day."

"Thank you, Mother." Sophitia smiled.

**-~-I-|-O-|-I-~-**

Outside, under the pavilion that had been erected for this very occasion, Rothion awaited the arrival of his bride-to-be. As he was not allowed to see the bride before the wedding, he had not seen her all day: it was starting to show. His hands were shaking and sweating, and he kept looking this way and that, hoping to catch any sign of her.

In his mind, he went over every detail he and Achelous had gone over for the past week and a month. The wedding would not be held in the Byzantine churches, or in a mosque, but outside, under the open air. Since Rothion had no brothers, they had agreed that Lucius would serve as _koumbaro_ for the wedding, while Cassandra, naturally, served as _k__oumbara_. At Rothion's side was the young boy, holding the ring in his hand.

At the stroke of twelve, it was time. The wedding banner, which had been removed to Rothion's house, was now being carried by Achelous back to the Alexandros house. Rothion and young Lucius made their way through the town-streets, the bride-groom eager to be with his loving bride, for now and for all time.

They arrived outside of the Alexandros house, and Rothion got his first glimpse of his bride-to-be, dressed in brilliant colors. She was beaming at him, her green eyes filled with love. At that moment, all of Rothion's doubts or fears were dispelled like mist by the morning sun. There could be no doubt, when looking into her loving eyes, that they were meant for each other. All of Olympus was surely smiling down upon them.

**-~-I-|-O-|-I-~-**

The ceremony went down as expected. The wedding feast was exquisite. At last they were united: Rothion Alexander and Sophitia Alexandra. Nothing but joy filled their village as they enjoyed the revelries of the wedding feast. When the time came, after midnight, for the newly-weds to depart, the guests started to disappear while Sophitia and Rothion went their way. It was dark when they came to his house, hand in hand.

Once inside, Rothion lit a lamp and led Sophitia to his bed-chamber. He placed the lamp on the window sill, then turned his attention to Sophitia. Passion burned within both of them, and were it not for Sophitia's forbearance, the heirloom dress would have been torn asunder in their desire to get at each other. As it was, she told him to remove it carefully, so as to not damage it. When at last she was clad in nothing but her chemise, they laid themselves down upon the bed.

Not since the days of Helen and Paris had the world seen such impassioned lovers. Already bound at the heart, they seemed determined to be bound at the lips for the rest of the night. The straw crinkled beneath their weight as they rolled about, entwined among each other.

At last, the moment came that Sophitia had been dreading. She felt Rothion's hand rest upon her shoulder, then the sleeve of her chemise started to fall down her arm.

"No, please," she sighed, pulling herself out of his grasp.

"What's wrong?" he asked. "This is what tonight is for, right?"

"I know," Sophitia replied.

"Don't you want to?"

"I do," she returned, an annoying feeling of awkwardness rising up within her. "It's just, well..."

"What?"

Sophitia sighed, burying her head upon Rothion's now bare chest. She couldn't get over how perfect he was! Most men, so it was said, were covered in hair like a goat, but Rothion's body was smooth yet powerfully built: the gift of his days in the forge. She couldn't be close enough to him, even with her forehead pressing against his body. Blasphemous though it may be, she doubted that Apollo could be much more beautiful than Rothion was handsome.

But she?

"You know about my travels," she said. "And all that happened."

"Yes," he nodded.

"Rothion, please, can't we just go to sleep? It's late, and I'm tired." That wasn't true: when she was in Rothion's arms, all thoughts of sleep faded from her mind.

"Sophitia," he replied. "I can tell something is bothering you. Please, you know you can tell me."

She had difficulty choking back tears: he was just so perfect. She couldn't keep this charade up, she couldn't put him through this. In her heart, she knew that she had to tell him the truth. She got up and sat down, with her face to the window and her back to her lover. Trembling hands reached up to her shoulders and let her chemise slide off her back, where it came to rest upon her hips.

"I am scarred, Rothion," she sobbed quietly. "I can never be perfect for you."

Silence flowed between them for a few, painful moments. Then the hairs on Sophitia's back stood up as she felt a warm, calloused hand moving across her bare back. A traitorous gasp escaped her lips as the hand rested on her shoulder, and Rothion's lips touched the nape of her neck.

"What scars?" he whispered.

"Rothion, please..."

"I never said I wanted perfect," he replied. She turned her face to the right, and saw his face there, her own reflection in his deep, brown eyes. In his eyes, she saw something that took her breath away. Her scars were not hurting, but her body ached to be with him. Then he spoke those four words that made her sure that, no matter what, they would always be together.

"I just want you."

Love. That was what Sophitia saw in Rothion's eyes. Love for her, despite her past, present, or whatever the future held. Every dream, every wish, every imagination of her heart's desire had at last come true in him. All fears and doubts were banished when she looked into his eyes, and knew that she had no reason to fear: he loved her, and that was all that mattered to her.

One hand rested within Rothion's rich, dark hair, gently pulling him closer until their lips met. The other hand guided his down her back.

* * *

The months passed by uneventfully and with peace, just as they had before. Between working at the smithy, Rothion began working on the house. It would be the place where he raised his family, and so it had to be expanded. For the most part, Sophitia offered what aid she could with the work; however, that soon came to an end.

One day, Sophitia complained that she had ceased to bleed. When news of this reached her mother, Nike was more than ecstatic. She told Sophitia the good news, who then relayed it to Rothion. Within a week, Sophitia's whole family knew and joy was with their house.

Sophitia was with child.

Over the next few months, Rothion's house was frequented by Cassandra. She spent more time there than at Achelous' shop, but Sophitia didn't mind. She was the most excited to hear the news, and practically doted on Sophitia. When it became evident that her condition couldn't allow her to help around the house, Cassandra would help with the more demanding chores while Sophitia alternated between resting and the easier house-hold duties.

For many months, they took care of Sophitia while her stomach swelled. In October, two months in excess to what was the expected term of carriage, she became unable to continue working around the house. Every time she exerted herself, she would get extreme pains and could not continue. Thus Cassandra volunteered to help around the house, as she had beforehand.

Rothion's house had only two rooms: the hearth and the bed-room. Bustling about the room was Cassandra, a broom in her hand as she cleaned up the house.

"If only Rothion were here," Cassandra murmured.

"He has to work," Sophitia sighed. She was sitting on a stool by the hearth, resting as she had done for the past several weeks.

"I think he should be _here_, at home," Cassandra stated. "I mean, after all, it's not my baby that's being born. Why can't he do this?"

"You asked to come here," Sophitia replied. "You can...you can leave whenever you...want to."

"Sis, are you alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine," Sophitia replied. "It's kicking me in all the wrong places."

"Is there a _right_ place?"

"Cassie, ow! It hurts."

"I'm sorry," Cassandra laid her broom aside and wrapped her arm around Sophitia's shoulder. "You hear that?" She spoke to Sophitia's stomach. "You're hurting your mommy, so cut it out."

"Cassie, really."

"No, sis, _you_ really. Rothion should be here." She kissed Sophitia on the cheek, then picked up her broom and went on about the work.

"Then why are _you_ here?" Sophitia laughed. "And what's more, how did Mother and Father let you come here?"

"Oh, they think I need domestic training," Cassandra sighed. "Prepare me for marriage, or whatever."

"It does help," Sophitia replied.

"I don't wanna get married, though," Cassandra repeated her ancient refrain. "I want to..."

"Explore the world, I know. But you're...ooh! You're eighteen now. You need to think about your future."

"I have considered my future," Cassandra stated. "The only thing I've missed are our private lessons."

"I've told you bef...before," Sophitia sighed. "I'm through with that life."

"Yeah, yeah, and I've been teaching myself since you chose to stop," Cassandra mused aloud as she pushed the straw broom along the floor. "But it's nowhere near as fun as when we used to..."

"Cassandra."

"Hmm?"

"Go get Mother."

"Mother? What do you want..."

"Oh!" Sophitia leaned forward overmuch and almost fell down to the floor. Cassandra ran to her side, arm around her shoulders.

"I've got you, sis!" she replied.

"Cassandra..." Sophitia gasped, breathing heavily.

"Yes?"

"Get Mother!"

"Why?" Suddenly her hand went up, covering her mouth in surprise. "You mean...?"

"Ow! Yes, I am! Now go get Mother!"

"What about you?"

"I need mother, dammit! Now go get her!"

**-~-I-|-O-|-I-~-**

Rothion paced outside his own house, afraid of what might happen. It was late afternoon of the twenty-second when Cassandra came running to his forge, screaming that Sophitia was giving birth to her baby. For the whole of that night and most of that day, Sophitia was plagued with pains in her abdomen, but the afternoon came and no baby was delivered. Most of the pain had dissipated, but he was not allowed to see her. He began to grow nervous: she wasn't having pains, so they said, and yet they wouldn't let him see her. What had happened?

As the sun was on its way down, Cassandra appeared out of the window.

"Is she alright?" Rothion asked. "I should be there with her."

"No, there's nothing really to tell," Cassandra replied. "It was probably just a false alarm. Nothing yet."

"Please, Cassandra," he urged. "Pray to the gods that she has a safe delivery. She has been in there for almost two days, something can't be right."

"One, stop thinking that way," she replied. "You don't need to worry. Sophitia's been through worse, she can handle this. Meanwhile, I know somewhere you can stick your prayers to the g..."

A sudden, ear-piercing scream echoed from within the house. Without so much as an "Excuse me", Cassandra ran back into the house. The delivery had begun in earnest now.

If Rothion had worried about the half and one day of waiting, he was almost dead with fear now. The cries from within made him fearful, as though she were being torn down the center. He could not help but shed tears as he heard his love crying out, knowing he was unable to do anything to help her.

Midnight tolled in the distant church. Collapsed against the wall of his house was Rothion Alexander, exhausted from having waited so long, worry increasing his exhaustion: whether the screams of pain had at last died down, or whether he was not listening to them, he knew not. All he knew now was exhaustion, weariness, and the chill of the mid-autumn air.

"Daddy?" a voice asked from the window.

Rothion turned his face up from where he was slouching, and saw Cassandra's face, drenched in sweat, looking out of the window with a happy expression.

"Daddy?" he repeated. "You mean I'm a father?" Cassandra nodded vigorously. "And Sophitia? Is she well?"

"Come in and see!" Cassandra invited.

With nervous, shaking laughter on his lips, Rothion rose to his feet and ran into the house. Inside the bedroom, whose door Cassandra had opened, he saw Nike standing over the bed, with a bundle of rags in her arms. Sprawled out on the bed was Sophitia, many blood-stained sheets piled at the end and beneath her.

"Are you alright?" Rothion asked Sophitia.

"Tired," she sighed, a smile on her face at seeing Rothion.

"But what's all this for?" he said, gesturing to the bloody sheets.

Sophitia looked up at her mother, who handed her the rags, then took Cassandra by the arm and led her out of the room, closing the door behind them. Rothion knelt at Sophitia's side.

"It was close," Sophitia sighed. "I labored for two days, growing weaker with each hour. I felt such pain, greater than I've ever felt, even from my battles. My mother and sister were afraid, especially when I was bleeding so much."

"But everything is well, isn't it?" he asked, fearful of what might happen next. "Is the baby...is it alive?"

Another beautiful smile stretched across Sophitia's sweat-drenched face.

"Come, my love," she said. "See your daughter."

She held up the bundle of rags, and only then did Rothion notice a tiny, wrinkled face buried within the rags. Flaming red hair peaked out from a mostly bald head, while the baby was sleeping peacefully.

"A girl," he sighed. Sophitia nodded. "Oh, she will be loved, just as much as her mother." Once more, the smile that he loved seeing.

"What shall we call her?"

"Pyrrha," he replied. "To honor your trial."

* * *

**(AN: As if recreating a Jewish marriage for _Exodus: Birth of a Nation_ wasn't difficult enough, I had to recreate a Greek marriage for this story. I also had to pick through what information I found, since Olympian-cult worshipers wouldn't have a Byzantine [Greek Orthodox] or Islamic marriage. Her dress is based off her second outfit from _Soul Edge_, just without the green tartan skirt, boots, gloves or the hat. I could have gotten away with the hat, but her head needed to be bare for the garlands.)**

**(Lots of information crammed into this chapter. Concerning Sophitia's reluctance in the marriage bed, the answer for that is simple: a] she is naturally shy about her body, and b] she is shy about her body even more now that she bears scars from her battle with Cervantes. I'm not saying I'm an expert, but I've spoken with a girl [who shall remain nameless] who was embarrassed by scars on her body. From a male perspective, I view scars as trophies of past victories, especially if they are battle scars, like Sophitia's. As she isn't male, she isn't that proud of her scars, especially since some [not I] would find scars unattractive.)  
**

**("Pyrrha" actually does not mean 'fire', it means 'flame-colored', or 'red'. Red for the copious amounts of blood shed by Sophitia during her delivery, red for her baby hair [which turned blond later on - believe me, it happens. My baby pictures have me with black hair, which turned from black to blond, and is now a light brown/dark gold], etc. There is reason for the depiction of her birth, because it is important later on in the story.)  
**


	13. That Which Survives

**(AN: This chapter has absolutely nothing to do with the _Star Trek: TOS_ episode of the same name. I liked the title because it implies something great, possibly evil, that, though destroyed, has somehow survived. You can, therefore, guess what is going to happen in this chapter.)  
**

* * *

**That Which Survives**

_"No notice is taken of a little evil, but when it increases it strikes the eye." - Aristotle_

_1591 AD_

Three years passed since Sophitia and Rothion were blessed with a daughter. Ten months after that, another blessing arrived in the birth of a second, healthy child: a baby boy. They named him Patroklos, for they believed he would bring glory to his father. Thus they lived their lives in peace for many a day.

Cassandra had definitely grown. Gone was the scrawny little fourteen-year-old teen, replaced by a woman of twenty-one, as old as Sophitia had been when she was married and yet still remained unwed. Poor Achelous and Nike begged and urged her to find someone, but it only made her more frustrated with their insistence. Therefore, like as not, Cassandra found herself spending much more time at Sophitia and Rothion's house than usual.

She took an instant liking to the children, her nephew and niece. She was now 'Auntie Cassandra', and always offered her assistance with taking care of the children when need called for it. Thus she found herself in the house one afternoon, with Sophitia, taking care of the children. Pyrrha, the oldest, was two and Patroklos one and a half. Pyrrha was, even now, capable of walking, albeit clumsily and not without taking a frequent fall or two, and could speak several words.

"I don't understand how you can handle them all," Cassandra said, as she pulled Pyrrha away from Patroklos. "It's like they never get tired."

"It takes a certain kind of strength to be a mother," Sophitia replied.

"And I believe it!" Cassandra exclaimed.

"They're all worth it, though." Sophitia stated.

"Really?" Cassandra asked. "I was there the whole time with both births. It looked painful to me."

"Yes," Sophitia began. "It was painful: the most pain I've ever experienced in my whole life. I felt as though I was being split in half down the middle."

"Wow, that was pretty descriptive!" Cassandra jokingly stated.

"We've both seen it happen," Sophitia replied.

"We've both seen you give birth, not be cut down the middle!"

"It certainly felt like it," Sophitia continued. "And though it hurt like hell, there is the moment after: after the pain is nothing more than a memory, you're covered in blood, sweat and tears, and you're holding this tiny life in your arms. You know it came from you, this living thing, and you suddenly find that..."

"What? What do you find, sis?"

"That you're no longer the center of your world." Sophitia answered. "That you would do anything for this little, innocent thing."

"You've changed, sis." Cassandra stated. It was quite the understatement. Aside from her thighs and waist, Sophitia's breasts were at least two or three times as large as they had been before she was married.

"What do you mean?"

"You're starting to sound like Mama."

"Maybe it's because I _am_ somebody's mother now." They shared a laugh at this: most likely both of them trying to imagine Sophitia as 'motherly' as their own mother Nike.

Just then, the door opened and there stood Rothion, a small leather purse in his hand. He greeted both of them, then turned to his children. He kissed Pyrrha, then lifted Patroklos up into his arms, laughing and smiling. He then placed the boy back on the floor, then turned to the women.

"How is the forge master, brother-in-law?"

"All is well," he said. "But I had the strangest customer today."

At this, Sophitia's ears perked up at attention. The last time they had a 'strange customer' come to call, it was an oracle of Hephaestus. In Sophitia's heart, she feared to ask further, in case it was. She was now married, and had children to look after.

"What happened?"

"Not much," Rothion replied. "I didn't see a face, and the customer didn't speak. They just dropped this off." He picked up the purse, pulling the strings apart and revealing its contents.

"Hephaestus!" Sophitia gasped in shock.

Cassandra peeked over from her stool and noticed what caused such a frightened response. What she saw seemed innocuous enough: a tiny shard of some broken metal. Looking at it longer, Cassandra thought she saw it glow slightly red. The metal also seemed slightly alive, as if it had a pounding chest, or maybe it was a piece of flesh that had grafted itself onto the metal?

Before any of them could speak, Pyrrha had taken the shard out of her father's hand. Baby Patroklos waddled over to his sister and tried to take the new play-thing away, but Pyrrha pulled her hands away, closed firmly over the shard. Suddenly, Patroklos had struck Pyrrha across the face with his tiny fist. She fell to the floor, crying, but her hands were tightly closed. Patroklos walked over and kicked her while down, stumbled down on her, then tried to take the piece out of her hands.

"What in Zeus' name is going on here?" Rothion exclaimed. Sophitia reached over to take the shard away from the children, when suddenly she too collapsed, clutching her chest.

"No, no, no, no!" Cassandra cried. Without another thought, she tore the metal shard away from Pyrrha and Patroklos' hands and ran out the door.

* * *

The Alexandros family was being torn apart. Cassandra was missing, Pyrrha and Patroklos were in danger, and Sophitia's old wounds started aching again. Most of them were only moderately painful, no stronger than muscle spasms: but one wound, which had healed and scarred over, hurt the most. It was the one in Sophitia's chest, that which pained her the most.

One night, while she was sleeping, she felt hands pulling her chemise away from her chest. She sighed and told Rothion "Not now", thinking that he was interested in making love: that wasn't as embarrassing as it had been in the beginning. They knew each other's bodies now, and she had no more shame or a desire to hide herself from him. However, tonight she was weary and not feeling up to the task.

But the hand was insistent, tugging at her chemise with determined intent.

"No," she said a little louder, her eyes still closed shut.

Suddenly there was the sound of a fist striking flesh, then the unmistakable whine of Pyrrha crying. Her maternal instincts kicked in and Sophitia jerked awake out of bed, fearful that her baby was in danger. In the dim light, she saw Pyrrha and Patroklos brawling on the floor, as they had when the metal shard had been shown to them. Looking down, she saw that her chemise was askew.

She tried to pull the babies apart, calm them down, then take them back to their cribs. Unfortunately, this was much easier said than done. Once they were in her arms, they kept groping at her chest. This was only a little odd, for Pyrrha had stopped nursing a year ago; most of the time, her mouth was occupied by her own thumb. Now she was reaching at her mother's chest.

"Pyrrha, stop!" she insisted, pulling the baby's hand away. But Pyrrha was determined.

With a loud huff, baby Patroklos waddled over to Sophitia's leg and struck her hard. In no time, Sophitia found herself in the midst of the children's mayhem: being tugged, punched, groped and kicked from both ends.

"Rothion!" she called out. From the bed, her husband arose wearily, sleep deprived from his eyes.

"Yes, what is it?" he asked groggily.

"Please, help me calm the children down!" she begged.

As if by magic, once Rothion took Pyrrha away from her mother's arms, she seemed to calm down and was easily returned to her crib. The same went for Patroklos, though he put up a fight, screaming "No!" as his father pulled him away. Once the children were quieted, Rothion returned to their bed.

"Come to bed, love." he sighed, as sleep was once more coming over him.

"I can't sleep," she said. "I need to go outside."

"Be careful," he sleepily replied, barely able to respond.

Once outside, Sophitia broke down in tears. Never, even in her worst nightmares, had she imagined that this would happen. Plague was likely, being killed by an outlaw or in a tavern brawl was likely and dying in child-birth was almost certain: but she and Rothion had survived all of these things.

Instead, the evil of Soul Edge had somehow survived. On her way back from her last journey, she met Taki, who told her that three warriors from the Far East had broken the power of Soul Edge, confirming what she felt that night. It was a dream come true, freed at last from the omens and journeys and pain. She could now live a normal life...

And it was all coming down about her ears. She had seen a metal shard like that before: they had been in Taki's purse, which she said she had taken out of her body. They were shards of Soul Edge, and their evil influence was at work. Her wounds were aching up again, the babies went wild over the piece of Soul Edge, and Cassandra was missing.

The children went wild over the piece. The shard of Soul Edge, the one that Rothion had received from his strange customer. They practically tore themselves apart to get at it, just as they had done this very night. A foul thought came into Sophitia's mind: what if, by some way, _she_ was poisoned? Taki said she had removed the metal shards from her body, but what if she had missed one? What if, even now, a piece of Soul Edge was working its way inward, refusing to be removed? A piece that struggled to return to its host, paining her every time the malignant power was alive. One that had been buried within her, poisoning her blood and other fluids, and had, in turn, poisoned her children? She couldn't even be around them, for they were practically tearing themselves apart to get to the last shard of Soul Edge, buried within her chest.

She collapsed onto the ground, her back to the wall, her face buried in her hands. She had caused her children harm, just as the demon-captain Cervantes had infected his own child, the Child of the Cursed Sword, when she was born. Her hands could not stop from shaking, and she felt sick at heart.

_My children need me,_ she thought. _But as long as I am around them, I will only be a danger to them._

No, she could not blame herself for this ailment. She didn't know what had afflicted her, not until now. Nor could she blame the gods, for she had done her duty to them, and this could not be a curse from them, not when Hephaestus had admitted that Soul Edge was not of Olympus. No, the evil that was now within her body was Soul Edge's evil.

_If I find Soul Edge,_ she resolved. _I must destroy it._

She knew what she had to do now. There was one more journey for Sophitia Alexandra to undertake: she had to fulfill what she had been denied on her second journey. She would find Soul Edge and destroy it. Would it prove to be the answer for her problems? She knew not. There was still some portion of evil within her, and she knew not how to be rid of it. Would its evil die once the power of Soul Edge was broken for good, or would the ancient evil, that which had survived destruction _twice_ before, survive yet again to plague her forever?

_Time heals all wounds,_ she mused. _Even this will fade, as the rest of my wounds have._

There was no other choice. Twice she fought for the gods, now she would raise her sword for a third time; to protect her children. Hopeless seemed her situation in light of what had gone before, but if she gave up, it would mean admitting defeat and damning her children to a cursed life. In her mind, there was no choice in the matter: the children had to be saved.

_Gods,_ she prayed into the dark, starry night. _Guide me._

* * *

**(AN: I'm not sure how long I'm going to make the events of _Soul Calibur II_, to where we have now come, in conjunction with the rest of the story. I could probably tell them in two or three chapters, but, since Cassandra is a secondary character in this story and now she has her big debut, it would serve to have her make an appearance.)**


	14. Setting Out

**(AN: You know, it's surprising when you write someone, and you're just trying to depict their character as you understand them, and then they steal the scene! lol, it's okay, I'm not upset. Like the description says, this story is about _both_ Alexandros women: Sophitia's gotten the most attention, so I guess Cassandra wanted some as well [lol])  
**

**(Now she takes half of center stage in the latter half of our great story!)  
**

* * *

**Setting Out  
**

_"Loyalty and devotion lead to bravery. Bravery leads to the spirit of self-sacrifice. The spirit of self-sacrifice creates trust in the power of love." - Morihei_ _Ueshiba_

Cassandra awoke amid the cool breeze of Mount Olympus. She rose slowly, wearier now than she had ever been in her entire life. His voice was gone, having been screamed out for so many days. She was chilled to the bone, and all the priests and servants of the Eurydice Shrine were long gone.

When she saw the piece of metal that Pyrrha and Patroklos had been fighting over, she recognized it immediately. That evening, seven years ago, she was the first one to see the strange woman from the East carry a broken and bleeding Sophitia back to their house. She begged her to be allowed to help her sister, but she dismissed her offer: regardless, she waited on the side-lines, watching the entire procedure. She saw the shards of metal the Eastern woman had taken out of her sister's body, and what Rothion held in his hands, what the children were fighting over, was a piece of that damned sword.

It was still alive, even after seven years, and still bringing harm to their family. Without a moment's hesitation, she stole the piece and traveled to the Shrine of Eurydice on the slopes of Olympus, where she exploded into a fit of rage. She called the pantheon of Olympus every damn dirty word she knew, railing against them for all that had happened to Sophitia. The way she saw it, Hephaestus wanted Soul Edge destroyed not because it was an evil presence that threatened the world, but that it had not been forged by him. Its rise would mean a blow to his pride, and she wanted to give the lame, ugly Olympian a piece of her mind. And all the rest of them for good measure.

No lightning bolts came from on high to strike down the blasphemous young Alexandros daughter. If possible, their silence was even more unnerving and horrible than the worst answer they could possibly give. No matter how much Cassandra railed and screamed, the heavens remained silent. She screamed and cried until she could do no more, when at last exhaustion overcame her and she collapsed. She arose a second time, with railing and screaming at the gods as she had done before, only to pass out from extreme exhaustion once more.

Now she was awake once more, the cold of the clear, mountain air caressing her sweat-drenched forehead. Something was stirring somewhere below her stomach. Was it the answer of the gods? Had she been cursed for demanding that Sophitia be saved from the evil of Soul Edge?

Pushing herself up to a sitting stance, she noticed that the small leather purse she had carried was lying on the floor. She picked it up and began tying it back to her belt, when she felt the purse shaking. She unfastened the latch and removed the shard, which seemed to be moving within her hand. She eyed it with a kind of curiosity and loathing: this was responsible for her sister's children being harmed, for all that had befallen Sophitia over the past seven years.

A rattling noise was heard somewhere down the gallery to the left. With the purse in hand, Cassandra slowly made her way down the Eurydice gallery. Four years ago, after Sophitia's second journey, she and Rothion had given the Last Sword in sacrifice to Hephaestus. There it was, lying upon a gilded rack set within a niche of the giant stone stairs that served as the wall and end of the gallery; the Last Sword.

Suddenly a thought entered Cassandra's mind. _She_ would destroy Soul Edge. It would work: she would have to first steal the Last Sword, perhaps smuggle it in her dress. Maybe she could go to Larisa, find a blacksmith to forge her a shield, definitely find some new clothes: she couldn't expect to fight in a dress that touched the dusty streets and obscured her feet. This was what she had wanted ever since she was young, to leave Athens and see the world: now was her chance.

Fear crawled upon the tails of her thought as she never before expected would happen, should a golden opportunity like this present itself. She would be running away from home, into a world she had never seen before, one against which Sophitia had warned her of its dangers. There would be no more Nike and Achelous to make food for her, no roof over her head, unless she had enough money to pay for a _han_. It would be dangerous, and she might not return.

_If I don't go_, Cassandra thought. _Sophitia will have to. Her children need her, Rothion needs her. She's been doing this too long: it's my turn_ now.

All thoughts or fears to the contrary were dismissed. Her hesitation was not long, for she knew what she had to do. Without even looking to see if her actions were being marked, she ran to the niche in the wall and removed the Last Sword from its rack.

* * *

In the forge of Rothion Alexander, the only place of heat in the cold, late January weather, the couple arrived to inspect what Rothion had wrought. Weeks ago, Sophitia heard the terrible news from her mother and father: Cassandra had not returned home after she left them, taking the cursed shard with them. Days later, Sophitia traveled to the Shrine of Eurydice, only to discover that the Last Sword had been stolen. She returned to Athens and begged Rothion to forge her a new sword. With still some of the _orichalcum_ left, he went about doing just that.

Today, however, was the saddest day Sophitia had felt in four years, apart from the revelation of this curse. Dressed in warm travel gear, colored blue for the color of Greece, Sophitia looked upon the Shield of the Elk, her stalwart defense. No scar had yet penetrated the holy steel that covered the wooden mass of which the shield was made. It had endured: if only her family would as well.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Rothion asked.

"No, I don't want to do this," Sophitia sighed. "I _have_ to do this, for the children." She turned to Rothion, a strained smile on her face. She knew he loved her smile, and she wanted the last memory her face in his mind be a happy one, even if she were hurting inside.

"I'll send them to your parents' house," Rothion said. "They will be well looked after, and awaiting your return as eagerly as I will."

He then removed from where it had been concealed, covered beneath a cloth, the third sword to be called 'the Last Sword', carved with an _omega_ where the hilt and blade met. Sophitia took the sword from her husband's hands and placed it in the leather sheath upon her belt.

"I won't return," Sophitia said, holding back the tears as best she could. "Until I'm certain our children are safe."

"Godspeed, my love." Rothion returned.

Emotion overcame her for one brief moment, and she threw herself into Rothion's arms, kissing him as soon as they were together. One show of emotion was enough. She had to be strong, for him, for herself and for the children. They kissed once more, then parted ways.

* * *

**(AN: Okay, I'm definitely stretching this section of the story out some, so that's good...I guess? [lol])**

**(Sophitia's outfit in this one is her 2nd outfit from _Soul Calibur III_: as far as practicality goes, it's the most suited for travel of all her outfits, and her _SCII_ outfit is pretty much her _SCI_ outfit, which has already been featured.)  
**

**(Any thoughts on this chapter?)  
**


	15. The Knight and the Bird

**(AN: Struggled with an appropriate title, and quote: neither are really good. Well, the quote is, but I don't see how it's relevant to anything either than our two protagonists.)  
**

**(I have two other stories in the works, but they won't be published until this one is out: spoiler reasons and such. But that's not important right now [lol]: right now we get to see the start of "a beautiful [yet silly] friendship", as dictated by the _SCIV_ _omake_)  
**

* * *

**The Knight and the Bird**

_"If the love for her family is power, then no one is stronger." - Anonymous_

Cassandra knew what had happened with her own sister's adventures across Europe: she had practically forced her to tell them through pestering behavior and a plain refusal to accept no as an answer. All of that seemed to be put to the ultimate test here in this journey once she left Greece.

And it all seemed for naught. The only foreign language she knew was Italian, with a few German words Sophitia had taught her. Even worse, she didn't know where to go. Though she knew the name of the cursed city where Soul Edge was rumored to be, Ostrheinsburg, she hadn't a single clue as to where that city lay. All she knew, from what Sophitia told her, was that it was somewhere in the north.

Upon entering Wallachia, she gained more than a few stares from the people of whose towns she passed through on her journey. It was rather odd sight they saw: a young woman, dressed as Cassandra had been. She wore one of the white robes of the Eurydice Shrine priests, all of them damasked with a single blue stripe down the middle, whose sleeves she had removed and whose skirt she had cut at the knees. White traveling boots were upon her feet, and men's leggings covered her legs. Her shoulders bore small pauldrons and white gloves were upon her hands. On top of this, however, she bore a sword and shield.

To the local _han_, or inn as it was called this far north-east, Cassandra went, even as Sophitia had done on her first journey. She didn't cover herself in a cloak when she went inside: who needed to hide? If they wanted to pick a fight, then bring it on!

She had barely left the bar when suddenly, a large man stepped in front of her way.

"Going somewhere, pretty girl?" he leered.

"Yes," Cassandra replied. "To my seat. Now please, stand aside."

"Oh, by all means," the drunk said, taking a step aside. Cassandra nodded, then continued walking on, when she heard a knife being drawn and the drunk murmur: "I'll show you to your seat!"

Quickly, she ducked the over-wide blow, then drew out the Shield of Nemea, ready for the next strike. Some of the drunk's friends started laughing.

"This cat has claws!" another hollered.

The drunk charged at her, and she struck him straight on the head with her shield. One of his more sober, and more dangerous, companions drew out a club, but Cassandra parried it with the Last Sword. These street thugs were no match for her, despite their size: she was quicker on her feet, and held nothing back.

Just then, a commotion was heard on the other side of the inn. It seemed that someone had called the constable about a tavern brawl. Before Cassandra could do anything, however, someone pulled her aside.

"It's not wise to draw attention to yourself when outnumbered, _fräulein_." a woman's voice spoke to her from beneath a hood.

"Let me go!" Cassandra protested.

Without another word, the hooded woman took Cassandra to one of the upper rooms of the inn. She threw her down before someone sitting in the shadows, then locked the door.

"Okay, somebody better start telling me what's going on," Cassandra said.

"_Meine Dame_," the hooded woman said to the one in the shadows. "This woman was attacked by five men, but beat them off by herself."

"Yeah, no thanks to you." Cassandra bit back.

"Hold your tongue!" the woman responded with equal venom. "You stand before royalty!"

"Why are you hiding?"

"Impudent little trollop!" The hooded woman raised her fist, ready to strike Cassandra across the face.

"_Warten_, Gerhilde," the one in the shadows ordered. The hooded woman, obviously Gerhilde, lowered her hand. "_Ich brauche_ _licht, _Siegrund." From out of the shadows, a match was stricken, and a candle upon a nearby table came to light. Before Cassandra's eyes, a woman sat upon a stool behind the table. This, obviously, was the royal Gerhilde spoke of: her arms and legs were clad in steel armor, that glowed in the light of the candle, and a helmet sat on the other end of the table.

"Greetings, _fräulein_," the armored noble-woman said to Cassandra. "I am Hildegard von Krone, princess of the Kingdom of Wolfkrone. My soldier, Gerhilde, was recruiting downstairs when she saw your...display."

"I was just defending myself," Cassandra said. "That pig was trying to hurt me."

"And what do they call you?" Hildegard asked.

"Cassandra Alexandros."

"How unfortunate."

"Well, that's what my parents told me. See, my sister always told me the story of the Fall of Troy, and how Apollo had tried to seduce Cassandra, but she refused, and so nobody believed her prophecies, even though they were true." She scoffed. "If it was some ill-planned attempt to get me to fear the gods, my parents were gravely mistaken."

"Still, it is not pleasant, being named after a prophetess of doom," Hildegard said.

"Yeah, well, it's a name, what can you do? Now, uh, your Highness...ness?"

"Your Grace will do."

"Yeah, okay. Um, Your Grace, if I may be so bold, or whatever, can you tell me why Gerhilde here kidnapped me from my drink? I have important business to attend to!"

"And what business is so important that it takes a young girl all the way from her home?"

"Hey! I'm twenty-one! And you can't just answer my question with another question!"

"Can't I?" Hildegard laughed. "I'm a princess, aren't I? Nevertheless, as I said before, my guard was recruiting for an attack I am planning against Ostrheinsburg."

At the naming of that place, Cassandra suddenly became interested.

"You're going to Ostrheinsburg?"

"Yes, on matters of war," Hildegard replied. "The Azure Knight has done great harm to my kingdom: he must pay."

"I see," Cassandra replied. It seemed they were not after Soul Edge. This complicated things slightly: the last she heard, Soul Edge was in the possession of the Azure Knight in Ostrheinsburg. But the presence had disappeared during Sophitia's last journey: or so she had been told and led to believe. Apparently the evil presence had survived: maybe now it was no longer in the hands of the Azure Knight, or even no longer in Ostrheinsburg?

If so, her last option was gone. She had nowhere to go.

"I am seeking powerful warriors," Hildegard continued. "To join the ranks of my army. We will attack Ostrheinsburg and punish the Azure Knight for his sins!"

"Uh, yeah," Cassandra replied. "Um, I'm sure it's a very noble effort, Your Grace, but I have a task of my own: I have to find Soul Edge. You see..." Hildegard held up one gloved hand.

"Leave us," she said to her guards. The one named Gerhilde protested, but Hildegard whispered something to her in German, then she nodded and joined the others as they made their way down the stairs, closing the door behind them.

"There are only rumors of that sword," Hildegard said. "The last were that it was in the possession of the Azure Knight. Whether or not that is true is irrelevant: I wish to see the Azure Knight brought to justice and utterly destroyed."

"Listen," Cassandra said. "I really don't care, I just need to find Soul Edge."

"Why?"

"To destroy it!" Cassandra replied. "I was about to tell you my story until you sent them away. Can I speak now?"

"_May_ you speak, you mean."

"Uh, yeah. May I?"

"Go ahead."

"Thank you," Cassandra began. "You see, my sister received an oracle from the forge-god Hephaestus seven years ago. He told her to destroy Soul Edge because it was powerful, but it wasn't built by him, so it would be an affront to his god-like ego or whatever. Sophitia agreed and went off to destroy it: when she came back home, she was half-dead, covered in blood and scars and pieces of glowing red metal. A friend of hers removed the pieces then vanished. Three years later, she received another oracle and she went off to destroy Soul Edge again, but came home after she learned it had been destroyed.

"Several weeks ago, I was at my sister's house, and saw her children practically tear themselves apart over a small piece of metal: one of the pieces of Soul Edge. I ran to the Eurydice Shrine to give Hephaestus a piece of my mind, and then I noticed the sword calling to me, then I knew that I had to destroy it, so my sister and her children can finally be safe."

Hildegard mused on this for a moment

"I don't understand much of what you say," Hildegard replied at last. "But your story as merit. Your decision to risk all for your family is a great sacrifice: one which I empathize with greatly. I, too, have...lost loved ones, to the Azure Knight." She turned to Cassandra.

"I will not hinder you," she said at last. "Moreover, I would offer you counsel, if you are willing."

"I'm willing."

"If you wish to be of any help to my cause," Hildegard began. "Your assistance would be most welcome. However, if your quest is more dire and demanding, then I would seek out rumors of Soul Edge. To the west, in _Spanien_, there is a _don_ who has been seeking news of Soul Edge: from what I've heard, his mansion is filled with all sorts of trophies and souvenirs from the past seven years of its existence in Europe."

"Thank you, Your Grace." Cassandra thanked.

"Please, call me Hilde."

"As you wish...Hilde."

"You are free now to do as you will," Hilde said. "As you leave, tell my guards to return. They won't hinder you: if they do, tell them the Lady has given you leave to go."

"Thank you again, Hilde."

"_Auf Wiedersehen_, Cassandra."

"Uh, _antío_, Hilde."

At this, they departed. While she was leaving, Cassandra tripped against the rug and slammed herself into the wall of the room, falling hard upon her rear end as she hit the floor.

"Ow!" she exclaimed. Rising up, she gently rubbed her injured rear, then bowed to Hilde and left. Hildegard, however, was concerned about what would happen once Cassandra left. Mostly, of course, because she saw something that Cassandra, apparently, hadn't noticed.

The crack in her shield.

* * *

She had made the journey before, but now she trod her steps with pain. Not the pain of her wounds, but the pain of separation and the fear of what would happen if she failed. The Evil Sword was still about, and if nothing was done, she and hers would certainly pay the ultimate price.

For days and nights she marched north-westward, towards the Holy Roman Empire. Her goal: Ostrheinsburg. She knew the way, and nothing would stop her. Those ruffians and brigands who tried were soon faced with a fury unlike anything they had ever seen in man or woman: they saw the fury of a mother whose children were in danger. Those who didn't run were cut down by the Last Sword.

At last, early in the sunless morning, Sophitia arrived at the cursed city. Ostrheinsburg was blanketed in a thick fog, which she hoped was the work of the gods. Perhaps they saw her plight and looked down upon her with mercy, giving her this protection against the evil eyes within the city. The fog covered her way, but it also made approach very dangerous. As memory served, Ostrheinsburg sat upon a river, and she knew not if the bridges had been drawn up or down.

After several minutes of walking through deserted, broken ground, a tall, dark tower emerged from the fog. The endless song of the mighty Rhine River whispered its melody in the depths of the fog. As she came closer, she saw that the tower belonged to a fortified barricade that guarded the entrance to the castle. The gates had been forced down by some force of nature, which allowed Sophitia passage into the stone barricade. Inside, she saw a dock that was used for ferrying across the river. Lying there, tethered at the end of the dock, was a large raft.

_May the gods be praised_, she thought.

Since there was no one else about, she would have to use the ferry pole herself. The river's current was not strong, but the pole was heavy, and she had to pull the heavy, wooden raft, along with her own size. As she pushed herself off from the dock and into the river, she lamented how much of her figure she had lost. Her legs and thighs might not have been permanently lost, but her breasts were much larger: it was hell trying run with those, especially if she didn't bind them down with cloth.

_Taki_, she mused. _I empathize with your predicament_.

The course of the river was gentle, and she was allowed to approach within sight of the walls of the castle, which rested on the banks of the river. An eerie quiet, broken only by the occasional cawing of some crow high above the mist, fell over the cursed city. Sophitia eyed the high walls with distrust, fearing that she was being watched. The quiet was too much, and her wounds didn't even ache in the slightest: something was amiss within the mist.

"Ha ha ha ha ha!" a high-pitched, youthful voice laughed in mockery from somewhere above her head.

The ferry boat suddenly lurched to one side, leaving Sophitia reeling for fear of falling into the river. She could swim, but her weapons and clothing would surely drag her down if the boat capsized. It slowly regained equilibrium, and what Sophitia saw before her, on the other side of the boat, was the strangest person she had ever seen. She was clad like a beggar, in clothes so frayed and torn, they barely kept her warm, much less protected her modesty. Upon her feet were boots of steel, and she wore trousers like a boy. Her hair, however, was the most peculiar: green, like her clothing. On her shoulder was a ring of steel.

"You're such a horrible mother, sheesh!" exclaimed the girl mockingly.

"What do you know about me?" Sophitia replied angrily.

"I know why you're here," the young girl said. "I also know that you abandoned your children back home to come here. And you failed: Soul Edge isn't here." A smile appeared across the girl's face, though Sophitia didn't like the look of that smile.

"Say, I'd really like to play with your children," she replied cheerfully. "After all, they must be _so_ sad and lonely, all alone, without Mommy to be there for them!"

"I won't let you near my family!" Sophitia returned, removing her shield from her back.

The green-haired girl laughed. "Says the mother who ran away from her children, leaving them all alone and defenseless!"

"It's because I _am_ a mother," Sophitia said, drawing out the Last Sword from its sheath. "That I raise my sword to protect my children."

"Whatever," the girl growled, her voice suddenly sharp and spiteful. She removed the ring from her shoulder, gripping it within her gloved hands and opposing an attack stance.

* * *

**(AN: As you can see, _SCIII_ is already happening. As I've said before, the events of _SCII_ through_ SCIV_ happen in one year's time [1591 AD], so, like in _Siegfried_, the events of those are somewhat compressed. The events will still happen, so don't worry about too much getting cut.)**

**(Cameo by Hildegard von Krone. In _Siegfried_, she knew where Cassandra was going, and told him thusly [there's a hint for who might make a cameo in the next chapter or the one after that one]. I think I should definitely give them another meeting, since they just have such amazing chemistry [as seen in the _SCIV_ _omake_].)  
**

**(Oh, and another fan-favorite appeared in this chapter, who will make regular appearances later on. [lol]. Tira! For many of you reading, her depiction in this chapter will be like how I saw Elizabeth in _Mar__y Queen of Scots_: she was a favorite character of mine, yet depicted villainous. Obviously, there's no escaping that Tira is a villain and she will appear as such in this story [another hint at what shall happen shortly].)  
**


	16. Landsknecht

**(AN: I'm a little annoyed at how the story went with the interim between _SCII_ and _SCIV_. Sophitia leaves home to protect her children [_SCII_], learns her children are in danger from Tira, goes home to be sure they're alright then goes for her fourth journey [_SCIII_], then goes back to Athens again to find out that, well, you know [_SCIV_]. I would really like to shore it up, but I'm not sure if that's possible.)  
**

* * *

**Landsknecht**

_"Between men and women there is no friendship possible. There is passion, enmity, worship, love, but no friendship." - Oscar Wilde_

Cassandra was getting close. After leaving Hilde's room, she walked out of the inn, and happened to hear two men discussing current events. It seemed that a village several miles from this one had been ravaged by someone living in a castle in the mountains. Once the name of that castle was mentioned, men hushed and quailed in fear. Apparently, some great evil was connected to this castle.

_Perhaps Ostrheinsburg might not be where the Sword is located_, Cassandra thought. _But this new castle might be the new home._

With determination in her heart, Cassandra made her journey northward, to the castle in question.

**-~-I-|-O-|-I-~-**

Bvran Castle. Over a hundred years ago, a very powerful lord of the Wallachians defended this land from the Turks. Now he was dead, along with the freedom of those of his land. It had survived the tests of time, and was still a force to be reckoned with.

Here was the castle of which men feared to speak, where Cassandra hoped she would find the Evil Sword, and at last save her sister and her family from this terrible fate.

What she found, however, were the villages. They were corrupted, brimming with unnatural energy of evil, cold beyond chill and clouds of perpetual darkness hanging over the castle and villages. Their people had been infected, becoming living dead, just as the sailors on the demon-pirate captain's vessel. Cassandra knew that these people had been infected with the evil of Soul Edge, and she dreaded this fate. Their streets were filled with the dead, blood ran freely in the streets like water and shit. Not only the men were infected by this evil, but the women and the children as well.

In every child's innocent-looking face, pale and ghastly, eyes glowing red like fire, Cassandra saw questions. Why has this happened to me? What have I done to deserve this? I haven't done anything wrong, but something isn't right with me: does that make me evil? In every face, Cassandra found herself breaking into tears.

In every face, she saw Pyrrha and Patroklos, their smiling faces, filled with laughter and hope: she saw them marred forever, like these children were.

_I can't fail,_ she cried to herself inside. _I can't let __Sophitia and her children down: this is what will happen to them._

The evil of the villagers gave her new resolve, gave her purpose and a drive to continue. She would not fail, she would save her nephew and niece, no matter what the cost. Anything to spare them of this horrible fate.

Into the darkness of the forested Wallachian mountains Cassandra forged ahead, sword and shield in hand. These lands were filled with the corrupted villagers, and any moment might see her attacked by them. Before her, she saw the top spires of Bvran Castle, her destination.

Suddenly, she heard rustling among the trees of the forest. Someone was coming upon her. Faster than lightning, one of the townsfolk appeared before her, its cheeks bloated, its face pale and its eyes red with fire. Another appeared, and then two more: soon at least seven of them had surrounded her on all sides. One of the villagers, a little, innocent-looking girl, opened her mouth, hissing at Cassandra, and immediately, she knew with a sickening finality why their cheeks were bloated.

They, like ticks that feast upon the beasts of the field, were filled with blood.

"You wanna fight?" she challenged. "Come and get me!" With bravery in her heart, fire and determination in her veins, she drew the Last Sword out of its sheath and armed her shield-arm with the Nemea Shield.

With a gasp, she realized that she was suddenly outnumbered and unarmed. Cracks made their way across the body of the Nemea Shield like spiders, and less than half of the blade of the Last Sword was still attached to the sheath. Fourteen eyes burned with a hungry fire, no doubt sizing her up for their next meal. There was nothing else she could do, except...

She ran for her life. Never before had she been in a battle she could not win, but now she found herself in exactly that. Her pretty weapons were in pieces, nothing more than a shadow of their former glory, a memento of the victory of the former wielder. There was no winning with those in hand, and, in Cassandra's mind, winning was all that mattered, especially if defeat meant losing Pyrrha and Patroklos to this evil.

She ran until she could run no more, until her limbs were screaming in protest. She collapsed face forward, barely able to continue. Pushing herself up into a sitting position, she examined her weapons. She begged, wished, hoped and prayed to whatever gods there might be that all she had was a horrible nightmare, that she would look up and discover her weapons still intact. But the nightmare was real: her weapons were cracked and broken.

"Ooh," she moaned. "What am I going to do?"

There was no way she could survive without weapons, and now the ones she had stolen were now broken. She could not continue, and yet she refused to give up: Pyrrha and Patroklos needed her.

* * *

"Naughty child," Sophitia returned. "You shouldn't be playing with swords."

"Don't patronize me!" the green-haired girl growled, swinging her blade at Sophitia. "I'm not a child, dammit!"

The raft swayed with their movement as the young mother and the green-haired girl exchanged blows. Though rusty after four years without practice, Sophitia could still hold her own. Her enemy, however, was unpredictable. Her attacks would come swift at first, while she moved and danced about Sophitia in a mocking fashion, laughing and smiling. Then without warning, she would suddenly become angry, striking out with determined blows and harsh insults.

In her eyes, Sophitia could see something that made her heart reach out to her in pity. This girl, who she could swear was not a year older than she herself had been on her first voyage, with her smiles, mocking laughter and behavior, had never been truly happy.

"Stand down," Sophitia halted, parrying the large ring-blade aside. "There's no reason for us to fight. Don't you have a place to call home?"

"Home is where the killing's at!" exclaimed the girl with sadistic glee.

"You jeer me on," Sophitia continued. "You laugh and joke at the thought of death and murder, but you're not truly happy. You've never been truly happy in your entire life. I...I'm so sorry."

"Boring!" the girl happily sang, swinging her blade at Sophitia. She parried the blow, and suddenly her demeanor changed. "I'm annoyed at you! Let's find out just how dark your blood is!"

The battle intensified, with the girl fighting with such frenzy as Sophitia had never seen before in a normal human. For normal she was, or at least she bore some resemblance of normalcy: she did not fight with the inhuman ferocity of the demon-captain, and her wounds did not ache in the presence of the ring-blade. A servant? Yes. The bearer? Hardly.

Suddenly, the girl jumped off the ferry, climbing back onto the walls by way of a chain that fell from the walls and spilled into the River. Once she was back on the walls, the girl laughed at Sophitia.

"When the time comes," she growled. "I'll come for your children!" A giggle indicated that she was once again happy. "It'll be so much fun!"

The ferry-barge disappeared into the mist, Sophitia's blood chilled by the little girl's last words. A new threat had arisen from out of the darkness of Ostrheinsburg. Soul Edge might not know what had become of the young girl that had destroyed its mate, and eventually someone might destroy it. But this girl was dangerous: she knew who she was, she knew that she had children, and she had just made a very real threat against them.

Without a second thought, Sophitia grabbed the pole and made her way back to the shore. She had been foolish to go on this quest: she would return home and make sure her children were safe.

* * *

In Athens, at the forge of Rothion Alexander, a familiar shadow crossed over his threshold. With hopeful eyes and trembling heart, he cast his eyes upward from his smithy, daring to believe that she had returned, the evil presence gone forever.

"Sophitia?"

"Uh, check again," To his surprise, he saw that the blond-haired Alexandros daughter who entered his forge was not his wife. For his part, he had naught against Cassandra, save that she stayed at their house a little over-much over the past four years. Sophitia didn't mind, however, and therefore Rothion didn't mind either.

"Cassandra!" he exclaimed. "Where have you been? Your sister's been worried sick about you."

"I had a little adventure of my own," she stated, then sighed happily. "But I can tell her all about that when I see her. Is she here?"

"You mean you don't know?"

"Don't know what?"

Rothion sighed. "You-You weren't there, were you? You left after the children were fighting over that piece of metal the strange customer gave me."

"Brother, you better tell me what's going on right now!"

"Sophitia's gone," he said. "She left several days after you did. She needed me to forge her new weapons. Seems the ones she used on her last journey were stolen."

"Uh, yeah, about that..." Cassandra said sheepishly. She placed the cracked, weathered Nemea Shield upon the table, then the sheath in which lay the Last Sword. Rothion removed the sword from its sheath, and saw it come apart only in one, small piece.

"What are you doing with these?" he asked. "And what _happened_ to them?"

"I stole these from the Shrine of Eurydice," Cassandra said. "Because I wanted to destroy Soul Edge for Sophitia. But then, I don't know! They just broke!"

"How could they 'just break?'" Rothion exclaimed incredulously. "They were made with Atlantean steel, the strongest steel known to gods or man! You have no idea how valuable that is!"

"Can you fix it?" she whined. "I need to go back after her."

"So you can break them again?"

"I-I don't know how they broke, honestly!" she began. "But it's just not fair! She's a wife, a mother even! She can't be going out on adventures to destroy souls and swords: her place is with you, with the children! Please, I _need_ to do this!"

Rothion sighed, wiped the sweat off his brow, then got to work reheating the bellows.

"When you find Sophitia," he said. "Tell her to come home swiftly."

"I will!" she exclaimed.

"And try not to break these," he replied.

"I won't, I won't!" she assured. "But could _I_ ask just one tiny favor of you?"

"What is it?"

"Could you make the field of my shield...pink?"

* * *

Within mere weeks, Cassandra had a new sword and shield: a pink Nemea Shield with silver etchings, and a sword with two **Γ** symbols carved into the pommel as it met the hilt, which she named Digamma. Now sporting a man's jacket in blue over a white undershirt - no more frilly, transparent chemises for her - and a pink bow tied as a scarf into her collar, she was ready to leave once again. Perhaps people wouldn't be as attracted to her if she wore man's clothes.

Once Rothion gave her the weapons, she bade him farewell and went off on her second quest. First, she would find Soul Edge, wherever it may be, and destroy it. Second, she would find Sophitia and return home with her. With her heart set for the road, she left Athens once again. While she made her way, however, the most curious thing happened.

She passed by the Alexandros bakery, which had been her home for so many years. She wished she could say goodbye to Mama and Papa, maybe ruffle Lucius' hair one last time, and give Pyrrha and Patroklos a goodbye kiss "from mother" and auntie. But her mission called her away: one she chose for herself, and one she would see completed. Turning back to the road, she ran straight-long into a very tall, muscular-looking woman, clad in old bronze armor.

"Watch it, girl!" the woman coldly shouted, then walked on her way.

"Girl?" Cassandra said, rising to her feet. "Who the hell are you calling 'girl?'"

But the woman was already gone, disappeared behind some corner, maybe. She didn't have time to teach her a lesson, for Sophitia's children were in danger, and only she could save them.

**-~-I-|-O-|-I-~-**

Remembering what her German friend Hilde had told her about the _don_ in _Spanien_, she made her way to the nearest place she knew there would be ships: Istanbul. She found an Italian ship bound for trade with France, the closest she could get to _Spanien_, or _Spagna_ in the Italian tongue. As it was, Spain was under constant attack by Barbary pirates, supported by the Turkish Empire, and France, though at war with Spain, was the only place she could land safely. Though the captain refused to let a woman on-board - something about it being bad luck - a combination of bribes and threats changed his opinion.

The voyage was not very eventful. Several times, doldrums aboard the Mediterranean caused the crew to attack Cassandra, but she made short work of them. She couldn't harm them, for the captain insisted that she leave her weapon with him. Though she protested, it was the only condition under which she was allowed to sail with them. In the meanwhile, she became very good with her shield, kicking with her legs, and knocking people over with her hind-quarters. One good thing that came from the voyage, however, was that her crew spoke a strange language, one which she picked up on quickly, in order to know if they were making fun of her behind her back.

As the ship approached the coast of France, Cassandra, aware of the dangers, asked permission to have her weapon back as well as a small dinghy. She said she would row out to the coast and cross into Spain without being seen. To ensure the boat came back, one of the crew went along with her, then dumped her on land once they arrived.

_Good riddance_, she said, as the ship disappeared into the distance.

Thankfully, no one in Spain questioned a Greek woman being there. Though some feared she might be a Turkish spy, she seemed to blend in with the locals, what with her fair skin and blond hair. This had the added bonus that, because she knew Italian, she could guess what they were saying and therefore get directions much faster. The one she searched for, the _don_ with the information about Soul Edge, it seemed, was hosting an exhibition at his mansion in Toledo. It seemed too good to be true, as though he were wanting someone to come and attack his mansion.

It was night when she arrived at the mansion. The guards immediately stopped her, stating that she was not on the guest list and therefore could not enter. Even though she protested, they did not relent. Finally, she walked back down the stairs, frustrated at her misfortune. But she just _had_ to get in there! If any information about Soul Edge existed, it would most likely be inside this mansion. Just then, a noble-woman in a large, hoop-skirt dress exited a carriage that had pulled up outside the mansion. Cassandra giggled to herself as a naughty, yet ingenious, idea of how to enter the mansion entered her mind.

Inside the mansion, all seemed to be going very well, as the guests poured in and out, taking wine from the servants who waited upon them. One wealthy woman, however, seemed to be quite ill at ease. After dismissing her husband, she departed to a secluded corridor and shut the door behind her. Suddenly, from out of her dress, a boyishly-clad young woman with short, blond hair leaped up, drawing her sword at the noble-woman.

"_Gracias_," she said with a smile.

"_¡Que despreciable!_" the noble-woman gasped. "_¡Que horrible! ¡Ir a casa de familia, puta!_" A pink shield struck the woman on the face, and she crumbled to the floor.

"And you call yourself a lady!" Cassandra laughed.

Without another word, she returned her shield to its place, then left the hall as if everything was okay. While she meandered about, tasting some of the food that had been prepared, she saw a strange person amongst the guests. He was clad in steel armor, with a cloak upon his back, and a huge sword within his sheath. He had long blond hair and, when he briefly turned her way, a scar running down his eye.

_Hmm_, she wondered. _He doesn't look like everyone else here._

Even more so, she noted that he looked about here and there, then went off on his own down a corridor. Curiosity got the best of Cassandra, and she followed after him down the hall. What she saw was a huge gallery filled with items that meant little to her, but were of great importance, apparently, to this metal-clad man. Keeping sure to remain out of sight, she followed him through the next hall, then up two flights of stairs. When she reached the top, she found him gaping at a huge mural painting of a battle.

"Find what you're looking for?" she asked.

The man turned to look at her, and she saw that, despite his armor, he must cut an impressive figure himself. Any other thoughts of admiration, however, faded as she saw him scrutinizing her with disgust. What else was he doing, undressing her with his eyes? She didn't like the thought of being stared at, especially by this stranger.

"It's an interesting painting, don't you think?" she gestured to the work of art, hoping to get his eyes off her bosom.

"_Fräulein_ Alexandros?" the man asked.

"Who wants to know?" she replied. This man spoke German, maybe he was from Wallachia. Could it be...? No, it couldn't have been. _That_ one was unbelievably fat.

"_Fräulein_ von Krone sent me." the steel-clad gentleman answered. "She said that her name was Hilde."

"Hilde sent you, did she?" she asked, rubbing her chin in thought. Just then, she saw the young man cast his eyes even further than her chest.

"So you're Cassandra?" he asked.

"And you're about to get your ass kicked," she replied sternly. "If your eyes drop to my legs one more time, pervert!" She didn't have a second chance about emasculating him here and now if he tried anything.

They talked for a moment, though the young man tried to keep his eyes off her, and she eventually started to act like her old self. Their talk drifted to the subject of the painting: _El Pesadillo_. It was clad in blue armor: could _this_ be the Azure Knight?

"It must bite, huh?" she asked, after stating that, as she heard, the Azure Knight hailed from Ostrheinsburg, in this young man's native Germany.

"Bite?" he replied in a dimwitted fashion.

"Yeah, as in biting the codpiece." she replied. _A big smelly one, like the ones you men expect us women to...ugh!_ Even the thought of it was too much. She had seen Sophitia and Rothion make love before Patroklos was born, and it was a little disturbing, especially how, throughout the whole shameful ordeal, her sister seemed to be so..._submissive!_

The young man was obviously revolted by her statement: good. She liked bantering with men, especially when she knew she could outwit them.

"What brings you so far from Greece, _Fräulein_ Alexandros?" the young man asked, then added aside: "Surely it wasn't to mock German princes."

"I'm looking for my sister," she sighed.

"And you think she's in Spain?" he asked.

"I'm not sure," she replied. "But that's where she went the first time."

"What first time?"

"Boy, you ask a lot of questions!" It was positively annoying, how slow and dimwitted he was!

"I'm just curious." he returned.

"You know curiosity killed the cat," she retorted.

"Fortunately, I am not a cat."

She walked over to the side of the hall, leaning heavily against it, while eying a report that sat innocuously on a pedestal.

"You're cute," she said at last. "And if you ever betrayed me, it would be the last thing you'd ever do." She parted her jacket a little, flashing Digamma to the young man "I am armed, as you see."

"Where is this going, exactly?" he asked a little exasperatedly. How rude!

"It's Soul Edge."

Though why she said that was beyond her! _Great going, __Cassie. You just gave away the details of your mission to a complete stranger. He might even be an enemy!_ Then again, she had shown him Digamma, and she was confident that, being faster and not ironclad, she could emasculate him before he even had time to draw his sword. _Still a dumb idea, mentioning Soul Edge to him_.

"That was what my sister went after the first time," Cassandra began. "Seven years ago, she received an oracle from the pagan god Hephaestus, who told her to destroy Soul Edge. I've never believed in gods or oracles: they give us a long list of rules to follow and then stand silent when bad things happen to us. More harm than good, if you ask me. But this time, I've had enough! My sister can't tackle this on her own anymore! I was too young then, but not anymore. That's why I'm here, to find her and together we'll destroy Soul Edge and be done with these gods and their demands!"

She sighed. It was the first time she had been able to say that much to anyone outside of her family. It felt good, getting it off her chest. After casting a quick glance at the parchment on the pedestal, she looked up at the painting.

"You know," she said. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you looked like that Azure Knight in the painting." She pointed to the painting.

"How do you know better?"

She laughed. "You? The Azure Knight? Please! You're too short, and you're far too thin, and you've got blond hair like me. The Azure Knight is tall and imposing, with a large body, not to mention a right arm you don't have, and a mane of red hair pouring out of the back of his helm like a river of blood."

With another chuckle, she left him be and turned to the parchment. It was a report about a company being slaughtered by this Azure Knight. She became even more convinced that Sophitia couldn't handle this on her own. If she went, she would wind up dead. She threw the parchment down, then crossed over to the other side of the hall, looking for something to take her mind off what she had just read. On another pedestal was another report, this one entitled _Ostrheinsburg_. It was written in German.

_March 17th. No sign of the Azure Knight having left the castle grounds. All seems eerily quiet, save for the hours: though no one is about, the bells always ring every hour on the hour. The shadow is still not as strong as the rumors have said, but the land about this place is dead, not fit for growing food or raising animals. A Frenchman came up from the north-east around two o' the clock, going up into the chapel. The noise of war was heard from those unhallowed grounds for many long hours, then a final, unholy scream._

_The Frenchman emerged at nightfall, and attacked some of my men. We gave chase to him, but could not pursue him past the French border. Unconfirmed rumors, however, of a French swordsman, fitting the description of our man, fleeing east with a young girl, have surfaced from our spies across southern Germany. The last known location of this man was somewhere in Hapsburg Wallachia, perhaps the Bvran Castle, once belonging to Vlad the Impaler. No sign as of the Azure Knight. Presumed dead.  
_

Dead! The Azure Knight was finally dead! Someone had _indeed_ slain him, this Frenchman had triumphed where, four years ago, those 'three Eastern warriors' had failed. Now, certainly, he was the new possessor of Soul Edge. Bvran Castle. She had been there but a few weeks ago! If not for her weapons breaking, she would have found the bearer of Soul Edge had slain him! _How stupid was I! My place isn't here in Spanien, it's back east in Wallachia._

The whole room shook violently, the crystal chandeliers clattering above their heads. A smaller painting fell off the wall, crashing behind her, then the sound of footsteps echoed down the hall. A white-robed figure was seen walking past them. Cassandra wondered if _he_ was responsible for the explosion.

Just then, she smelled smoke.

* * *

**(AN: Another long chapter [yay!] and lots of lines quoted or transcribed from _Siegfried_. Once again, their encounters are the same because all of this happens in the same universe. Of course, this time we get the encounter from Cassandra's viewpoint.)**

**(Yes, this story is _still_ about Sophitia, but she dominated the first chapters, and Cassandra was practically a side-note. As secondary protagonist, she needs some page-time as well [as opposed to screen-time, if this were a movie]. Bvran Castle is the name of the real-life Dracula's castle [Vlad the Impaler], though it is actually called "Bran". It will appear in a future chapter, don't worry.)  
**


	17. Shatterpoint

**(AN:/)  
**

* * *

**Shatterpoint**

_"Death is not the greatest loss in life. The greatest loss is what dies inside us while we live." - Norman Cousins_

Sophitia made her way back home as quickly as possible. A kind of frenzied madness overcame her, fueled by the words and sadistic laughter of that girl she met in Ostrheinsburg. Nothing could stop her now: not rain, or wind, or the cold of the Alps, or any power of man or woman. She was a mother, and her children were in danger: no power in heaven or hell could stop her from returning to Athens.

In her youth, she heard the stories of the great heroes. One such hero was Pheidippides, who ran from Athens to the field of Marathon and back during time of war. She hoped that she would not die as he did, blood bursting through the heart, before she reached sacred Athens.

Down the hill she ran, past the ancient Parthenon, down to the crumbling village on the edge of forever, that had been her home. She came first to the smithy, but Rothion was not there. Immediately, without even stopping for breath, she ran through the city-streets, though her bosoms pained her with each step, and came to a halt at the door of her house. Standing out there, with eyes gazing to the north, was her beloved.

"Rothion!" she exclaimed.

He turned about, and what she saw made her nervous. His eyes were puffy and blood-shot, as if he had spent his days in tears for quite some time. One of his hands seemed to be shaking, and she feared the worst.

"My love," he said, his voice heavy with emotion. "You've returned."

"What's wrong, my husband?" she breathed. "Why are you sad?"

"They...oh, love!" he wrapped his arms around her. "I wasn't there, I couldn't do anything until...until..."

"Until what?" she pushed herself out of his arms.

"Until she was gone."

"What happened, Rothion?" she asked fearfully. "Who's gone?"

"Our little baby Pyrrha," he sobbed, covering his face with his hand as he wept.

"No, no, no!" she breathed, barely able to believe what she was hearing. "Please, Rothion, tell me this isn't true! Please, gods, say this isn't so!"

"Sophitia..."

"**_No, it can't be true!_**" she screamed, louder than she had ever screamed before in her entire life. Her fists pounded against Rothion's chest: why she did not know. Was she angry at him, thinking that he could have stopped what happened? What she simply angry, and needed to give life to her rage?

He didn't lash back or try to stop her, he was too broken up to respond. She continued beating her fists upon him until grief overcame her at last, and she buried her face in his chest, wailing uncontrollably.

"We'll find her," he assured her. "I promise you, I won't stop until I've found her."

But Sophitia wasn't listening. In her mind's eye, she saw that little green-haired girl, sneering at her with sadistic glee as she made her threat: _When the time comes, I'll come for your children!_ Had it happened while she was away? She couldn't have been gone long enough for her to arrive ahead of her! Something must have happened, something _should_ have happened.

_Gods_, she prayed. _Why didn't you help me? Why didn't you save her?_

* * *

Nightfall in Athens. Sophitia could not sleep, even though Patroklos was safe and sound. She was in such pain, it was worse than any wound, any memory, or any pain of child-bearing she had ever experienced. Her baby Pyrrha, the daughter of her greatest pain, was gone, stolen out of her hands, while she, the mother who should have been protecting her, was away. She had failed one of the three people who now mattered to her most in the world.

Outside her house she roamed, unable to weep. Numbness and finally overcome the pain, but it didn't make it go away. She knew that, somewhere, that freak had stolen her baby, and was doing Zeus alone knew to her poor, poor Pyrrha. She could destroy the most powerful weapon in the world, but she couldn't save her own child from abduction. Her pain was so great, it felt as though one had punched straight through her chest and torn her very heart out of her while she was still alive. Life didn't have any meaning anymore, not after her child was gone, probably tossed aside in some...

_No_, she told herself. _I can't think like that. Gods willing, Pyrrha is still alive_.

"Feeling torn?" a familiar voice asked her. Turning about, Sophitia saw the last person she had ever expected to see in her whole life. Not for seven years had she shown her face in Athens.

"Azola?" she asked. The Amazon warrior nodded, and Sophitia rose from where she sat, practically throwing herself at her feet.

"You have to help me!" she begged. "They've taken my baby! I can't live if she is in danger! We have to find her!"

"I'd be feeling torn as well," Azola replied. "If I'd left my children to fend for themselves."

"Azola, what are you saying?" Sophitia asked. "You-You trained me how to fight, you taught me all that I know."

"And abducted your daughter," the Amazon replied. "Now the only way she'll live is by the power of Soul Edge."

"You did this?" Sophitia could barely stand to hear herself say this: such a betrayal! Her old friend and mentor had betrayed her, stolen her daughter away from her. Another debilitating numbness fell over her upon this revelation.

"Let's say, I've had my eyes opened," Azola said. "The truth is that there is neither good nor evil, only power."

Sophitia looked at her old friend, and noticed her eyes were glowing fiery red, as the demon-captain's minions did on the _Adrian_. Had she been infected? Was she a willful agent of evil, or had she been corrupted, even as the young man in the vision four years ago had been corrupted into the Azure Knight?

"Where is she?" she growled at Sophitia, like an angry lioness. "Where is my daughter?"

"Ostrheinsburg, of course." Azola replied, as though it meant nothing to her.

"I'll deal with you later," Sophitia threatened, then made her way back to the house.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Azola said, just as Sophitia was about to open the door.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I wouldn't try to destroy Soul Edge," Azola began. "You see, she _needs_ Soul Edge in order to live. If anything should happen to the Sword, well, it would mean the end for poor little Pyrrha."

Sophitia suddenly came to a halt. How had this happened? It was like the world was turned upside down and again! Her baby was in danger, even more danger than before, but now, if she was to save her, she would have to deliberately disobey the mandate from Olympus, go against everything she believed in and stood for, perhaps even commit murder, to keep Pyrrha alive.

"Well, don't believe me, if you don't want to," Azola cockily stated to the bemused, uncertain Sophitia. "but I suggest you think carefully before making your choice."

What happened next, even the gods could never quite answer. Sophitia knew that her one and only goal was to protect her family: if the gods would not do it, then she was to do it herself. All of Cassandra's epicurean beliefs meant nothing if they did not have an end, a solution to the problem. But this problem would see her take up arms against those she had fought to defend, to commit unspeakable horrors. Was it worth it? Would she indeed be willing to sell her soul to save her child's life?

Suddenly, her hand reached out and drew Azola's sword from its sheath. She thrust forward, but powerful Amazonian hands grabbed her wrist, attempting to hold her back. She pressed forward, Azola's hands straining against a force beyond her reckoning. In Sophitia's green eyes, a fire blazed: not the power of Soul Edge, but a rage and fury of its own. Good and evil no longer existed in the mind of this woman, only her family. Threaten them...

The sword ran straight through Azola's neck, blood pouring down from the open wound. She pulled the sword out and threw it away, just as Azola's body collapsed into the dust. A dark stain of blood was gathering upon the sand.

Dark. It was night, the time of darkness. Pyrrha was now in pain somewhere, infected by the evil of Soul Edge: she would never be able to dwell outside of the darkness. Now she herself was about to take the first steps on a dark path: her last labor was now upon her.

She went inside her house quietly, kissed Rothion and Patroklos softly and quietly. Picking up a belt, wrist-guards and her sandals, Sophitia then took up the Elk Shield and the Last Sword. These holy weapons would now shed the blood of the innocent to protect the innocent. At last she stepped out into the night, clad in nothing more than her sheer white chemise. She girded her loins with a belt of blue and gold, strapped the sandals upon her feet and tightened the wrist-guards about her wrists. One last look and everything was in order: all except for her clothing. She wore only her chemise, pale, white and as much defense against an enemy blade as a toga. Without another thought, she walked on into the night, clad as she was. In her heart, she had a profound feeling that she wouldn't need to be wearing armor anymore.

She wouldn't be coming back from this journey.

* * *

**(AN: The chapter we've all been dreading has happened.)**

**(As far as _what_ happened, _Soulcalibur_ wiki confused me. Did Azola kidnap Pyrrha, or was that Tira? They seem to suggest _both_ at the same time, so I just decided...well, you'll see how that turns out later on in the story, so don't worry.)  
**

**(That is my explanation for her _SCIV_ outfit. It is the least practical of all her outfits, I know [and also the most revealing, which the world of _SC_ gamers seem to hate], and my reasoning was that, in this journey, there doesn't seem to be a hopeful end. If she dies, she dies protecting Soul Edge [and therefore Pyrrha] with her life, therefore there is no need to be returning home.)  
**


	18. Rainbow in the Dark

**(AN: _Soulcalibur_ wiki is vague on whether Sophitia was corrupted by Soul Edge or whether she actively chose to protect it. I go with the latter, because I think it works well with her character that she chose to do this.)  
**

**(The chapter title, of course, comes from the _Dio_ song of the same name, which seemed fitting, since she is the only light/beauty in the dark places she is about to travel.)  
**

**(Enjoy! [Cassandra will return in the next chapter, don't worry].)  
**

* * *

**Rainbow in the Dark**

_"It may be necessary temporarily to accept a lesser evil, but one must never label a necessary evil as good." - Margaret Mead_

Many times now had the young Greek mother made the journey to the cursed city of Ostrheinsburg. Now she came again to the ruined walls of the city upon the Rhine; not to destroy, but to defend. But what she saw as she came within sight of the city was something else: dark clouds covered her topless spires, the force of evil was once again at work in the city and the land surrounding it. Her heart ached, and she feared that, as before, she would not be able to continue.

_No_, she told herself, swallowing her pain, turning into anger and strength. _I've come this far, I cannot lose._

Once more, she took the ferry from its mooring and pushed off into the river, towards the dark walls of the castle. With trembling steps, she passed through the walls of the castle and came at last to the keep, where the great hall of Ostrheinsburg sat in ruins.

She pushed open the huge oak doors, entering a dark hall, dimly lit by torches flickering in their fixtures on both walls. She made her way forward slowly, every step harder to take than the last one, knowing that there could be no going back after this. Before her was a great raised platform, upon which was a giant throne. About that throne stood the strangest ensemble of people she had ever seen in her entire life. At the bottom of the steps there writhed a most unusual creature, whose flesh was pale and ashen, but was clad in even less than that white-haired woman she had met all those years ago: his codpiece was very large, causing Sophitia to look away. The largest one was a giant of a man, hardly even man anymore, if it had been one to begin with: its form was huge, like the Behemoth of old, and its skin was like rock. Hefted upon its shoulders was an ax, held in such a fashion that Sophitia easily recognized. At the right hand of the throne was the little girl she had met, now clad in red with black hair.

Upon the throne sat the lord of Ostrheinsburg, the Azure Knight. Sophitia sensed something different about it than when she had first seen the vision. It was no longer human, that much was plain to see: a mouth, grinning with foot-long teeth, sat where his lower stomach should have been, and an unnatural glow was emanating from the bowels of this fiend. The armor was the same, as was the giant, deformed right hand. In its left hand, however, was a huge sword with a great blade. Upon the hilt was a single red eye, whose gaze made Sophitia's wounds ache with great pain. But she forced herself to endure it: she had endured the dangers of childbirth twice, she could endure this unnatural pain, little in comparison.

"Who dares come before me?" the Azure Knight bellowed, in a voice that proved beyond doubt that it was no longer human.

"My name is Sophitia Alexandra," she began. Suddenly, she drew out her sword, laying it on the red carpet that led to the Knight's throne. "I offer my sword to you as a sign of my service."

For a brief moment, Sophitia thought she heard a deep, low voice whispering. No one else, it seemed, was able to hear it. The little girl, however, was eying Soul Edge with a kind of fiendish delight, her little chest heaving up and down in ecstasy.

"You were once our enemy," the Azure Knight replied at length. "Why should we trust you?"

"My child is in danger," she retorted, trying desperately to withhold her fear and disgust. "She needs Soul Edge to survive, therefore, I have come here to ensure that no harm will come to the Sword."

The little girl knelt before the Azure Knight and spoke something in a hushed tone. The lord of the castle rose from his place, walked down the steps and stood before Sophitia. Out of fear, she knelt before the giant figure as it came to a halt before her.

"Your offer intrigues us," the Azure Knight stated. "You shall serve this castle and this Sword." The large hand then extended itself before Sophitia's face. "Now kiss our hand and swear allegiance to us."

There was no going back, Sophitia knew. If she made this choice, if she allied herself with the Azure Knight, with Soul Edge, she would be openly opposing the gods of Olympus: Tartarus would be her damnation when she died, along with the Titans and others out of favor of the gods.

On the other hand, if she turned and fled, she would be slain here, surrounded by so many enemies, outnumbered and barely armored. Soul Edge might survive, it had certainly done well on its own for the past seven years, but someone could destroy it. If that happened, Pyrrha would die. In her eyes, she saw that if she turned her back on Soul Edge, she would be turning her back on her family.

"I, Sophitia Alexandra," she said. "To swear my allegiance, loyalty and life..."

"Swear your soul to me." the Nightmare bellowed.

"I swear my allegiance," she began once again. "My loyalty, my life...and my soul, to the Lord of Ostrheinsburg, and to Soul Edge. I shall defend it against all who would try to destroy it, even to the giving of my own life...and of my soul."

She closed her eyes and kissed one of the fingers of the giant hand. It was cold, clammy, scabby and all together unhealthy and unnatural. She felt defiled having kissed it, as though she had kissed a leper.

"Now," the Azure Knight said, flaming red eyes glaring down at her. "You belong to me."

* * *

It was dark outside, with no sign or sight of the sun. Sophitia sat alone in a room that had once belonged to a lady, perhaps the wife or mistress of the last owner of the castle. A single torch illuminated the darkness of the room, but offered no warmth. The room was old, as though it hadn't been touched in four years. She feared some vermin infested the place, but that was not to be: rats and spiders were too wise to infest a place so cursed and befouled as Ostrheinsburg.

She placed down the Last Sword upon the bed, then added the Elk Shield as well. Just down the hall, she had seen a room with a large, wooden tub, that must have been used for bathing. It had been a long journey, and she felt the need to wash the dust off her feet. But even as she placed the shield down, her heart ached to see her child. Azola told her that she was here, but, so far, she had seen no sign of her. What if she had been lying? What if she really wasn't here? What if she hadn't been infected, and this was all some sort of elaborate ruse to destroy her?

"Knock knock!" a voice cheerfully called from the doorway, punctuating her words with two knocks on the door.

"You," Sophitia replied, seeing who it was.

"I have a name, you know," she growled angrily. "It's Tira!"

"I recognized you in the Throne Room," Sophitia returned. "You serve Soul Edge as well?"

"What are you, Swedish?" Tira mocked with spite. "Of course I serve Soul Edge!"

"What do you want?"

"To show you something!" Tira answered, her jolly, sadistic smile once more splitting her face. "You've come a long way to find your little girl, don't want you to be disappointed: nope nope!"

She disappeared from the doorway for a moment, then walked back in, a little child walking at her feet. Sophitia gasped in relief as she saw the face of Pyrrha looking back at her. She had tiny green eyes, just like her mother - as Cassandra never failed to mention - but they were flecked with lines of yellow fire. Sophitia dismissed this as a possible side-effect of her exposure to Soul Edge.

"My baby!" she cried, falling to her knees, arms outstretched to Pyrrha. To her shock, Pyrrha hid her face behind Tira's leg, thumb planted firmly in her mouth.

"Pyrrha," she called. "It's okay, Mommy's here. Everything's going to be fine."

"Maker go way," Pyrrha said, looking up at Tira. "She scares me!"

"Pyrrha, I'm your mother!" Sophitia begged, her voice rising with hysteria.

"Don't you know?" Tira asked, her voice jovial and mocking. "She doesn't remember you! She doesn't even know her own mother, how sad!" She then laughed that high-pitched, sickening mock of a laugh, which made Sophitia sick to her stomach.

"Aww, did I hurt Mommy's feelings?" Tira mocked. Just then, she spat in Sophitia's face. "Good, as long as you're in pain, why not make it a little more fun!" Her voice was now angry as she spoke to Sophitia. "After all, she's here on my account as much as yours."

"What do you mean?" Sophitia asked.

Tira laughed. "You honestly think that stupid Amazon b*tch kidnapped Pyrrha? Please, don't be stupid! I found her and asked her to take me to your home, she kept your parents busy while _I_ spirited your little girl away. Thanks for letting me play with her!" After flashing her mocking, sickeningly-sweet smile at the grieving mother, Tira turned about and walked out of the room, leading Pyrrha after her, away from her own mother.

Sophitia collapsed onto the stone cold floor, unable to contain her sorrow. She cried, wept and wailed without restraint. This was her child, the one she had born through great pain, greater than she had suffered while bringing Patroklos into this world, whom she had given her soul to the Azure Knight in order to save: she didn't even know who she was, her own mother. In the end, she feared, it would all mean nothing.

The doors to the lady's apartment were thrust open, and one made her way with determined steps down the hall.

"Tira!" she shouted.

Upon hearing her name, the little girl spun on her heel around to face Sophitia. In one hand was a cute, furry white kitten: in her other hand was a dagger with a curved blade. An unnaturally cheerful look was on Tira's face as she held the two.

"Mark my words, b*tch," she said, her chest heaving with anger. "Before this is over, I'm going to kill you."

"Aww, you're no fun!" she pouted. Suddenly, before Sophitia could ask or utter a single breath, Tira dove the blade of her dagger straight into the throat of the kitten: it made a sorrowful, weak little gagging sound, then ceased to move. She pulled the knife out, dripping blood all down the pure white coat of the animal, then looked at the kill she had made. The moan and laugh that escaped her lips as she saw the poor little dead animal reminded Sophitia of certain brothels about the inns and taverns in Italy and Istanbul in her journey. With a dreadful thought, she wondered if Tira actually did feel gratification at taking a life.

"Bye bye!" she said playfully, skipping on down the hall and cutting open the dead kitten, whistling while she left.

* * *

**(AN: The most language I've had in the entire series was in this chapter, probably why [aside from the violence] this merits a T rating.)**

**(As far as what happened here, Sophitia needs to know where Pyrrha is for what will happen at the end of this story [for spoilers, read _Siegfried_ and _The Last Stage of History_]. The room belonged to Ivy, as we saw in _Siegfried_, and the room where she had her bath was briefly course, Tira is just being Tira, but we also got to see, in this chapter, Sophitia talking trash with Tira. Her child is at stake, obviously, so why not? [lol, like that moment in _The Deathly Hallows_])  
**

**(The canon says that Pyrrha doesn't remember her mother, even though she was three, at the age when most children do start remembering things. It pained me to write that exchange between Pyrrha and Sophitia. In the 2006 TV-remake of _The Ten Commandments_, something like this happened, where Moses' son Gershom didn't know his own father [and was an ass to him, which, by the way, would NEVER fly in 3000/1600 BC. Furthermore, that is hardly canon, since the Bible says that Moses already had _two_ sons before he spoke with God in the Burning Bush, and that was forty years after he first arrived in Midian: obviously, by then, both of his sons were men and were well acquainted with him. sorry for the rant]. But that moment stuck out to me, and I reluctantly made it that, part of being exposed to Soul Edge, wiped some [if not all] of Pyrrha's memories. Her eyes are green, like her mother's, but the yellow was partially influenced by her _Omega_ outfit from _SCV_, along with the fact that she's been exposed to Soul Edge.)  
**


	19. The Holy Stone

**(AN: This quote actually makes sense, concerning what happens at the end of this chapter. Reworded only slightly, but the message is still the same.)  
**

**(Here we see our impetuous Cassandra on her voyage and what happens therein! [oh, and whether or not it matters, I thought Kaley Cuoco of _The Big Bang Theory_ would look good as Cassandra. lol, not that it matters, but I made comment about Sophitia and Rothion, might as well do one for her before the end])  
**

* * *

**The Holy Stone**

_"The good that men do is oft interred with their bones; but the evil that men do lives after them." - William Shakespeare_

Spain was an embarrassing fiasco to say the very least. Someone set fire to the mansion, and she had to save that pathetic Knight all by herself. During the thick of battle with a raging lunatic, she saw that man in white robes again. Suspicion overcame her and she set off after him, but he was quick and escaped. When she returned, she found the knight lying amidst a sea of flames on the second floor.

Once again, she found herself saving his life. As she tried to pick up the heavy, two-handed sword the Knight was wielding, it shattered in her hands. With a cry, she left it to its fate in the flames and dragged the Knight to safety. She waited until he was awake, explained the situation to him, then went off on her journey.

Now she knew where to go: back to Wallachia. Whoever that Frenchman was, all the evidence pointed to him being the last one to stand against the Azure Knight, and that he had survived the encounter. Considering the death-toll the Azure Knight was rumored to have collected, the only way he could have survived was if he had been victorious, and if he had been victorious, he was now the bearer of Soul Edge.

When she arrived in Wallachia, what she saw was chaos. The Duce, finally aware of the danger that lurked in Bvran Castle, had gathered his armies to lay siege to the castle. The valley was aflame when she arrived, soldiers running about, cannons firing and catapults launching their payload at the walls of Bvran Castle.

Under cover of a fog of pungent gunpowder smoke, Cassandra crossed the valley, where the skirmish was taking place, making her way at last into the forests from whence she had fled months ago. Her hope was that the fighting in the valley would hold their attention away from the steep, forested mountain-side. She flinched at every noise, every distant clang of gunshot, the deafening thunder of cannon-fire: any one of them might find their mark on her person, and it would all be over.

_I can't give up now_, she resolved. _I've got to destroy Soul Edge._

Suddenly, an explosion rocked the side of the mountain just fifty feet away. It was enough to knock her off her feet. She rolled to the side a little, then suddenly fell into the side of the mountain. She rose, her head spinning, and found herself in what looked like a tunnel, whose entrance had been concealed in the side of the hill.

With a choice between cannon-fire on the mountain-side and this dark, potentially dangerous tunnel, Cassandra got down on her hands and knees and started crawling. It was not pleasant in the least, but she had to get through. Unfortunately, this tunnel had not been used by anyone in at least a hundred years, and there were cobwebs, twigs and all sorts of things littering the shaft through which she had to crawl. What made things worse, she was sweating from the climb she made up the side of the hill. Her leggings were shifting uncomfortably upon the layer of sweat that coated her legs, making them quite uncomfortable. Ever so often, of course, they would catch on twigs or a bit of sharp rock and she'd have tears all in her leggings.

_Why did I even bother with them?_ she sighed.

At last the tunnel came to a close, with a trapdoor directly above her head. She stood up, pushing the trapdoor aside. She came up in the midst of a wine cellar, empty and abandoned but otherwise safe. Outside, the noise of warfare raged on heavily, with cannon-fire and the crashing of large boulders upon the walls of the castle. She peeped open the door that led to the courtyard, and saw all in disarray. Many of the servants, corrupted with their pale skin and glowing red eyes, were scurrying about here and there, in total chaos and disorder. Perhaps she could use their consternation to her advantage and find the French swordsman.

Keeping to the wall, she sneaked out of the empty wine cellar and made her way to a flight of stairs on the opposite side of the courtyard. All the while, she kept close to the wall, ducking out of sight whenever it appeared that someone might be looking her way. It was slow, and the bombardment from without was not helping her nerves, but she finally made it to the stairs. As she was climbing its steps, she heard a voice laughing from above.

"_Quelle folie de votre part de me mettre en colère._" the voice stated.

Cassandra's heart was racing. That definitely sounded like French, which meant that she had come to the right place. She took the Nemea shield into her hand, then drew out Digamma as she climbed the last steps. They led to a parapet on the top of a tower of the castle. Standing there, looking out over the battlefield was a tall man in the garb of a gentleman, with a long-tailed jacket, seeming like a cloak, upon his back.

"Welcome, _mademoiselle_," he said, turning slowly to the newcomer. "Let us celebrate your demise!"

He moved fast, as fast as Sophitia said the dread-pirate captain moved when she fought him. Quicker than her eyes could follow, the Frenchman drew out a paper-thin rapier, and was suddenly lunging at her! Cassandra barely had time to hold her shield in place, turning the blow at the very last possible minute. The Frenchman drew back, a suspicious glimmer in his yellow eyes.

"It looks like I'll have to destroy you," he commented matter-of-factly.

He charged again, moving so quickly that Cassandra had to stay on the defensive for the majority of the battle. For such a thin, flimsy-looking blade, his rapier was sharp and bit deep if it found its mark. The Nemea Shield was more than enough to keep out the majority of attacks, but even so, Cassandra was worried. She fought against the one who had destroyed Nightmare, what chance did she have?

_As much chance as Sophitia had against that pirate,_ she thought. _If she could beat him, there's no way that I can lose._

And she held her ground for the space of an hour, during which the battle raged on in the valley below them, with gunshots and heavy stones being thrown and fired about everywhere. Of course, the Frenchman was tireless, moving with inhuman speed. Cassandra, however, kept on fighting, dodging or blocking his attacks while following up with swings and slices from Digamma.

Suddenly she found an opening. She waited until he struck, then pushed the blow back with her shield. She then turned around, and lunged forward, butt first, and knocked the French swordsman to the ground.

"Heh heh!" she giggled, rising up from her attack. She then leaned over the Frenchman, a condescending look in her eye.

"Did that hurt?" she asked.

Without a word, he rolled aside, sword drawn, and began taking retreating steps backwards toward the stairs.

"I sense a powerful aura emanating from you," the Frenchman stated, pointing his sword in Cassandra's direction. "Could you be? No, you are not the Holy Stone." He took another two steps back.

"Running away, are you? Coward!"

"There's no need to fight," he laughed, holding up a small, leather purse in his other hand. "I already have what I wanted from you."

Cassandra looked down at her waist, but say that it was gone. That Frenchman had her purse, which had the piece of Soul Edge, the one Rothion brought home. She had to get it back! Obviously, Soul Edge was not here anymore. It might be her only way to find it again.

The Frenchman disappeared down the stairs faster than Cassandra could keep up. She ran to the top of the stairs and saw, in the courtyard below, the Frenchman running out of the castle, dragging a young woman with him.

_I don't understand this at all_, she sighed within herself. _But it looks like I'll have to follow him._

* * *

Though they ran faster than humanly possible, Cassandra kept up as best she could. Out of the castle they went and down the side of the mountain, hidden from the sight of those fighting in the valley. She couldn't give up, not yet!

Her foot caught on a fallen branch, and she tumbled down the side of the mountain, scratching and bruising herself every step of the way. When she finally stopped, she feared she had broken more than her pride. Very slowly she pushed herself up, examining her body. Her arms and legs seemed to be working well enough and her weapons were still intact, thank goodness. Her jacket, however, was torn and stained, and her leggings were in tatters. The next time she found a civilized town, she would need to find some new clothes.

As she rose to her feet and looked about, she saw a host of villagers gathering around her. Just her luck: her weapons survived, but she was surrounded by these infected villagers, who would tear her apart. They could smell blood, and she knew she was bleeding: a stone on the fall down had left a nasty bruise on the side of her head. There were too many for her to take on, especially if they moved as fast as that Frenchman. With weary resolution to her fate, Cassandra drew out her sword and equipped her shield, ready to die taking as many of these infested villagers with her as possible.

Suddenly, voices were crying out to her in their native tongue. She didn't understand what they were saying at first, but then remembered that, when she encountered the villagers before, they never spoke: they attacked first. Were these safe and uninfected?

"Uh," she began. "Does anyone speak German?"

"I do, madam," someone who looked like a man of some importance in one of the villages stated.

"What's going on?" she asked.

"I'm not entirely certain," he replied. "The last thing I remembered was a man with a giant...uh, I don't know what it was! But it was huge, and it was made of crystals, shining crystals that glowed blue in the light. He was going north-west, towards Germany."

"Do you remember anything before that?" Cassandra inquired.

The elder shook his head. One by one, some of the villagers approached and began chattering to each other in their languages. Cassandra asked the elder to translate for them, and what she heard was the same report: they had all seen a man with a giant mass of crystal, who walked through their village.

Cassandra watched the people go by, noticing how normal they looked: no longer were their faces pale, their cheeks bloated or their eyes burning with fire. Something had happened that had cured them of whatever evil had corrupted them before: and in all of their reports, there was the man with the giant mass of crystal.

This had to be more than a coincidence. That crystalline mass that was curing people of this affliction could be the Holy Stone that the Frenchman had mentioned during their fight. It certainly was powerful, if it could cure these people. She also heard that the man with the crystal was going northwest, towards Germany. There was one place in Germany, however, that she knew, if only by reputation. It was the place her sister dared not traverse on her first journey.

Ostrheinsburg.

If this crystalline mass was in fact the Holy Stone, the one wielding it might be able to destroy Soul Edge. Verily, he might be on his way to the Cursed City right now to do just that.

_I know what to do now,_ she said. _Go to Ostrheinsburg, find the Holy Stone, use it to destroy Soul Edge, then destroy _it_ as well. I've had enough of these hol_y _stones and evil swords. Once they're destroyed, Sophitia's family will be safe._

Thus did Cassandra Alexandros set her course northwestward, for the cursed city of Ostrheinsburg.

* * *

**(AN: By now, of course, we are caught up to _SCIV_.)**

**(This always bothered me about Cassandra's _SCIV_ ending. She knew that Sophitia's children were afflicted by the shards of Soul Edge, yet she would not use Soul Calibur [aka. the Holy Stone] to heal them. And we know it can, as we saw in Kilik's _SCIII_ ending. However, in the spirit Nietzschism, the creators of _SCIV_ and _SCV_ decided to negate all of the good aspects of Soul Calibur, turning it into an actively evil presence [a "malfestor"] that has to be destroyed. That is the purpose of the quote at the beginning of the chapter: Siegfried accomplished much good with Soul Calibur, but the good that he did was interred when he became the bearer of Soul Calibur no more.)  
**

**(Just one of the reasons I wasn't that big a fan of _SCV_. That has been a point of consternation among my brother and I: I'm in flat-out denial that the story of _SCV_ happened, while he is convinced that Soul Calibur molds itself to fit the soul/behavior of its wielder. In his hypothesis, Siegfried had noble intentions, but Patroklos didn't.)  
**

**(We've almost reached the end! Hang in there!)  
**


	20. Sacrifice

**(AN: Now we've come to the last chapter. Since neither of our heroines make it to _SCV_, the story will end here. For what [I believe] happens to Cassandra, see _The Last Stage of History_.)  
**

**(Since we're down to the last chapter, I'll do all my explanations here [or in messages, if I forget them and you mention something in the reviews]. Cassandra's new outfit [_SCIV_] makes its cameo in this chapter: reasoning, of course, for the loss of the hosiery was mentioned in the last chapter while she was crawling through the tunnel to Bvran Castle. In her _SCIV_ outfit, she is wearing panties without a skirt or trousers [Lady Gaga, anyone?], but those weren't invented in the 16th century. Therefore I've had to explain how she got her fuchsia panties in _SCIV_. Also, we see a cameo by guest character Scheherazade: her German name is Freiengeiste, because that is the German equivalent of what Scheherazade means.)  
**

**(As for the quote, I thought it fit with what will happen in this chapter. It also fits, as this story is about a certain character's undying love. Just replace 'man' with 'woman' and 'friends' with 'family' and it fits! [lol]. You shall see how later on. Right now, hold on to your seats! We've come to the end...at last!)  
**

* * *

**Sacrifice**

_"Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends." - Jesus Christ_

For weeks Sophitia remained in Ostrheinsburg. She hadn't seen the sun in all that time, and, aside from the torches, was becoming sensitive to light. There was little food in the castle, for most of the inhabitants didn't eat: what food there was in store was devoured by Tira and Pyrrha, with the left-overs given to Sophitia. As if to make matters worse, Sophitia was so close to her daughter, but she could no longer hold her in her arms, no longer feel the tiny fingers hold tightly to her skin. Though Pyrrha was very much alive, if not well, it was as though she were not.

One afternoon, or the grey un-light of darkness after the chapel's bells tolled twelve times, Sophitia was walking along the walls of the castle, staring out into the lands beyond. Somewhere to the south and east lay Athens, her home and country. In there, Achelous and Nike were busy working in their shop, with Lucius. He was much older now, though she rarely saw him at her home. Rothion was there as well, tending the forge or taking care of Patroklos, their handsome little son. Her heart ached to know that they were far beyond reach of all save her thought. It compounded her grief.

Just then, Tira appeared, lolly-gagging about as she tip-toed on top of the crenelated barricade of the wall.

"Why are you so glum?" Tira happily asked, as she leaped off the wall and stood next to Sophitia.

"You know very well why," Sophitia returned.

"Aww, no need to be so uptight," Tira sighed. "I'm just trying to make your stay more pleasant."

"Look, I told you before, watch your back. You stole my child from me, I have nothing more to say to you."

"But I have something to say to you!" Tira growled angrily. "It's from the Master, so you better shut up and listen to me!"

Sophitia's gaze did not grow any less severe or venomous as she glared at Tira, but she was now listening.

"Apparently," Tira continued with a dark, condescending tone. "You've been fighting Soul Edge all this time, yet you don't know of its opposite!"

"It's opposite?"

"Yes," Tira said. "There is an evil sword called Soul Calibur: it was made from a shard of Soul Edge and was made to destroy it. Methinks one bearing Soul Calibur will be coming to this very castle very, very soon!"

Sophitia mused on this new revelation. If there was indeed a sword that could counter Soul Edge, it would be a threat to her family.

"Yes, that's right," seethed Tira. "You know what you have to do."

* * *

Cassandra was traveling through the forests of Germany, ready for the final showdown against Soul Edge. Upon her back was the Nemea Shield, and in its sheath, tied to a belt that straddled her hips, was Digamma: these weapons had not broken on her since Rothion made them. She wore a new jacket, with knee-high white boots and no leggings. To cover her nethers, since her chemise only concealed her upper body, she purchased a pair of _braies_, cut off the legs, dyed it a deep, reddish purple color, and wore these instead. No more torn leggings for her.

Of course, her new look drew stares from everyone she encountered. Living in Athens wasn't exactly sheltered, but she wasn't exposed to high society as much as other peoples of Europe. Therefore, she didn't know that most women didn't show as much thigh as her new outfit was showing: not even whores showed that much. She didn't care, though: if they had anything to say, she would let her sword speak for her.

Fortunately, there were few such places and events in her travel. Once she left Turkish lands to the south, she returned to the familiar lands of the Holy Roman Empire. Here she would make her way west, towards Ostrheinsburg and then to destroy the Sword. She was, for the most part, alone on the road through the forest through which she traveled. Suddenly, from behind, she heard the clattering, clanging sound of metal upon rings of steel. She took a step aside as she saw a column of armed soldiers making their way down the road from behind, going her direction. Many of them were clad in steel, with coats of mail over their doublets. They bore swords, pikes, crossbows and guns: there were men on horses, with lances, flails, axes and maces. An impressive display of men-at-arms, ready for war. Their banners bore the emblem of a wolf, wearing a crown.

"Cassandra!" She turned about, hearing someone calling her name. Riding atop an armored _destrier_, carrying a banner with the crowned-wolf emblem, was the last person Cassandra had expected to see again.

"Hilde!" she greeted.

"'Hilde', Your Grace?" One of the Wolfkrone princess' mounted bodyguards asked her lady in surprise.

"We're friends, Schwertleite," she replied, then turned to Cassandra and pulled her horse out of formation, coming to a stop just before Cassandra. "What puts you on the road to Ostrheinsburg?"

"I seek the Holy Stone," Cassandra answered. "The one I last saw bearing it was going after Soul Edge."

Frightened whispers echoed among some of the troops as they passed by, but Hilde was not worried. She held up her hand, silencing any discontent among the troops, then turned to Cassandra.

"My army is going after the Azure Knight as well," she said. "He has gone unchallenged long enough. You're welcome to join us."

Cassandra looked about, then turned to Hilde with a cheeky grin on her face.

"Do you happen to have a spare horse?"

* * *

Earthquake! Those as far away as Ostrheinsburg felt the effects of the massive tremors. Sophitia took shelter beneath her table, waiting for Gaea's shaking to subside. It lasted at least one whole minute, and then it subsided, with no aftershock.

"Come out, come out!" Tira sang. Sophitia, who had been rising up from where she had hidden beneath the table, banged her head against the bottom-side of the bed. She crawled back to her feet, massaging a tender spot on the top of her head.

"You should really see this!" Tira continued. "It's amazing, seeing the earth on fire!"

Sophitia's heart skipped a beat. What could this mean? Had Soul Edge finally grown powerful enough to consume everything? Would she and her child be spared, or would the soul-hungry blade destroy them as well in the fires of darkness? Tira ran out the door and down the hallway, and Sophitia ran after her, despite how difficult it was to run with her breasts in this white chemise.

On the walls of the castle, far in the distance, they could see something rising up out of a sea of molten rock. It was a tower, whose crown disappeared into the heights of the heavens. To Sophitia's relief, the "earth on fire" was merely the lake of burning earth that flowed around the base of the tower.

"This is our final job!" exclaimed Tira. She then turned to Sophitia. "I know you'll do anything to insure this victory, right?"

"As long as Pyrrha is safe," Sophitia said, forgetting for a moment to whom she was speaking. "That is all that matters."

"You're such a killjoy," sighed Tira angrily. Then, like the flash of lightning, she suddenly was happy. "I know just what will make you happy!"

Tira left, but just as she had, the Azure Knight appeared in the courtyard, barking out orders to the golem and the strange old man. She guessed that they would be making their way to the tower that had arisen in the distance. She would be going with them, for the Azure Knight wielded Soul Edge, and she would go wherever it went. She _had_ to know that it was safe, had to know that her child would be safe. Just moments later, she heard Tira walking behind, leading baby Pyrrha after her.

"You ready?" Tira asked Sophitia.

"Why does she have to go?" she inquired. "We're going into battle, that's no place for a child!"

"She needs to see the victory of Soul Edge, silly!" Tira laughed.

"She's just a child!"

"Shh!" Tira hissed. "You'll upset her!"

Sophitia sighed, knowing what would happen if her own child heard her. But she had her final mission to accomplish, one from which she didn't know if she would survive, nor did she care. Fail, and she might as well be dead for failing her child. To succeed, she might have to give her life at the very end. Suddenly, a frenzied thought entered her head.

_If you were to destroy Soul Calibur, you might become the wielder of Soul Edge. Then you will never have to fear for your child's safety._

In her darkest hour, Sophitia at last gave up hope in the gods. She had gone on this journey because, as she knew, Soul Edge was a thing of man, and the gods would not destroy it. As such, they wouldn't interfere with its fate. Now her child's fate was tied in with that of the Sword, and they could not help. But this could help, this had _real_ power, such that even the gods feared. Even if she did not remember her own mother, they had time. No, they had more than simple time, they had _all_ the time they needed. Pyrrha would grow to love her mother, and she would always know what she had done for her.

As the others walked away, Sophitia looked at the tiny girl bounding after Tira. Her reddish hair was now the color of amber as it matured from red to blond, like her mother. With tears in her eyes, Sophitia looked after her baby, the one who didn't even know who she was, or that she had a father and a brother back home who loved her. That would change. The voice that spoke in her head told that anything was possible with Soul Edge in her possession.

"You and I," she said, her voice trembling. "Will live forever, my darling Pyrrha!"

* * *

On the plain of battle before the giant tower, warriors from all corners of the globe gathered to face against the one at the top of the Tower of Remembrance. All the warriors who had been seeking the Sword of Heroes for the last six months now convened at the foot of the Tower: here fate would make her final move in the war between the two swords and every warrior who had invested their lives and their fortunes into this hunt would be there for the endgame.

Cassandra was walking side by side with Hilde and a strange, Elvish girl Hilde introduced as Freiengeiste, whose head barely reached up to Cassandra's chest. They marched at the front of the army, ready to face the fury of the Azure Knight. Suddenly, the little elf-maid came to a halt, pointing at the distant ridge.

"There it is!" Freiengeiste shouted.

"What do you see?" Hilde asked.

"I see a rider on a horse," she returned. "The horse is black, but both horse and rider are clad in blue armor."

"That's it!" Hilde cried out. She turned to her bodyguards, who helped her back onto her horse. With her short sword in one hand and a lance in the other, Hilde turned to the army.

"My people!" she began. "The enemy we are about to face is the greatest challenge we have ever faced: it has destroyed your families, robbed your beloved kingdom of its peace and its king. Today, we will mete justice down upon the Azure Knight. Today, we avenge the lives of our loved ones! Today, you all will become heroes!"

Everyone cried out with a loud voice at Hilde's speech. Even Cassandra, who was not of the Kingdom of Wolfkrone, could not help feeling her heart warmed and her spirit roused at Hilde's words. Swords clanged together, knocking against shields, and all roared battle-cries from the bottom of their hearts.

"_Angriff, mein geliebter Menschen!_ _F__ür _Wolfkrone!"

With one voice, the people gave a great cry. Then, as one man, they took the field of battle, charging onward into the mouth of hell. Astride the spare horse, Cassandra bounced alongside the princess of Wolfkrone as they made their last ride to the Tower. Looking around, she saw the other warriors charging forward, all trying to reach the Tower first. One warrior made her draw the reins of her horse in and come to a halt away from the main army. For she saw now, living once more, the beast that had almost killed her sister.

Cervantes, the dread-pirate captain.

"This is for Sophitia, you bastard!" she shouted, drawing her sword and shield as she prepared to face the tall pirate.

"You dare to challenge me, you fool!" the pirate captain roared.

The captain attacked her, flying fast and quickly. Only her training and experience kept her alive for those first few minutes. She noticed, however, that the captain was not nearly as fast or furious in his attacks as Sophitia had described him to be. In fact, all things considered, she was feeling strangely confident as she exchanged blows with the old pirate.

"You know," she said, in between blows. "I don't think...this is your thing. You have...no talent! You should...give this up!"

"Stop your chatter, little wench!" growled the pirate angrily.

The blows came more forcefully, but that inhuman strength was just not the same. Cassandra wondered if some of this pirate's inhuman strength was lost when he was deprived of Soul Edge. Was that why he had come back? Had his black soul clawed its way out of Hell, just to attain Soul Edge as it had once possessed seven years ago?

Her thoughts disrupted her concentration, and suddenly, she was stumbling backward, her arms flailing.

"Out of my sight!" growled the pirate captain, aiming the hilt of his smaller sword at Cassandra's face. Only then did she realize that this pirate's weapon had a gun-barrel cleverly placed within the hilt.

As if fortune played its hand at the last possible moment in favor of Cassandra, the bladed whip of a snake-sword wrapped around the smaller sword's hilt, pulling it out of the way as it fired its deadly round harmlessly into the air.

"Aha!" growled the pirate, as he eyed his scantily-clad daughter. "Come back to me, my child! Return your soul to me!"

"I am no one's slave!" the white-haired woman, sparsely-clad in leather, retorted. "Most certainly not yours!"

To Cassandra's surprise, the dread pirate and the white-haired woman were now clashing blades, having quite forgotten about her. Though she wanted to protest, she suddenly saw, approaching the foot of the Tower, the man with the mass of crystal. The Holy Stone! She had come so close! With determined steps, she made her way towards the armored knight, whose right hand held a giant sword made entirely of crystal.

_Him?_ she asked herself incredulously. _That stupid knight I met in Toledo, he's the bearer of the Holy Stone?_

Just then, she heard footsteps land directly behind her. Turning around, she saw the woman who had saved Sophitia from Cervantes after her first journey. In her hands were _two_ short-knives, rather than one.

"I see you're chasing Soul Calibur as well," Taki replied.

"I just want the Holy Stone," Cassandra said. "I have to destroy it."

"Admirable," Taki stated. "Power of any kind, whether good or evil, is not for mortals to attempt to master: it will only bring about more evil." She then turned to the armored knight, who was approaching a lake of fire. "That man was once the Azure Knight. His sins have gone unpunished for too long." She turned back to Cassandra. "If you want to destroy Soul Calibur and the Holy Stone, you can tag along."

The neighing of a horse sounded near in Cassandra's ears. Turning about, she saw Hilde galloping to her side as well.

"Deserting?" she asked in jest.

"Hardly," Cassandra replied. "I found my man."

"It seems we must go together," Hilde stated. She then turned to the large Knight and made her way towards him, with Cassandra and Taki following on after. Before the knight there stood three figures who rose to block his entrance into the Tower. But when Cassandra saw the one in white, standing side by side with the servants of the Evil Sword, her heart seemed to die in her chest.

It was Sophitia.

"I never asked to be your champion," she shouted at the knight. "The gods used me, but they refused to protect my child!"

Cassandra could barely believe what her eyes were seeing. The whole world seemed as though it had been turned on its head: white had become black, up had become down and nothing made sense anymore.

"Please," she begged her sister. "Sis, go home! Everyone is worried."

"I have made my decision, Cassandra," replied Sophitia. "I will die for my child."

* * *

They exploded into a melee. There was no doubt the young knight, the one whom she had seen in the vision four years ago, bore the Spirit Sword Soul Calibur. The wound in her chest was burning as soon as the blade came within twenty feet. She feared it would tear her apart, but she kept her resolve. Even the appearance of Cassandra would not sway her decision. They appeared equally matched for a moment, then the White Giant, the one she had met on her first journey, appeared out of nowhere, tackling the golem with his bare hands and giant mace. Suddenly the knight was making his way towards the Tower.

"No!" she cried out after the knight. With her sword in hand, she ran after them. They were now on the bottom level of the Tower: the Azure Knight was making his way to the top, to face off against the Hero King, the only one powerful enough to control Soul Edge and Soul Calibur. But she couldn't let the knight challenge the Azure Knight.

"Sophitia!" Cassandra cried out. "I can't believe you would do this!"

Turning around, Sophitia saw her sister, trailing after her as she had done ever since she could walk. Without thinking, she smacked her in the face with the Elk Shield, sending Cassandra crumbling down. She didn't care if she hurt her or not, for the only thing she cared about anymore was Pyrrha. She had to protect her, even if that meant...

"I cannot let you bring harm to the Sword!" she shouted at the knight and the young, steel-clad woman at his side.

Now she was changing blows with the knight, the bearer of Soul Calibur. She had to kill him, he was the one who wanted to destroy Soul Edge. He might as well have threatened her child, and she attacked him accordingly. With sword in hand, shield on her arm, she fought the Knight until it felt as though her weapons would fall out of her hands. He moved slowly, encumbered by his armor, but the Sword he wielded made his blows as powerful as those of the dread pirate, if not stronger. She knew she couldn't win. If she lost to him now, she would die and Soul Edge would be destroyed: she and Pyrrha would die.

Her heart broke beneath her bosom, as she realized that, as much as she had tried, she could not save Pyrrha. She had damned herself, and would die in the knowledge that her daughter would die as well.

"You don't need to fight me!" the knight said, noticing her anguish. "I have to destroy the sword, it is a terrible evil that must be stopped!"

"That 'evil'," she returned. "Is the only thing keeping my child from harm!"

With renewed vigor, she attacked the knight, heedless of the danger that one unguarded blow, one glance slice, could do to her. She could feel the hesitation in the knight, and she used it to her advantage. She could defeat him now, Soul Calibur or not. He pushed aside her strike.

_Boom!_ Something hard struck her on the head, and her world fell into darkness. In those dreams, she saw herself, holding her baby Pyrrha in her arms. One arm, however, was different: it had become grossly deformed and leprous, just as the right arm of the Azure Knight. She herself was beautiful beyond measure, powerful than any man or god, stronger than the mountains and faster than the wind. All this could be hers, if she turned on her master, killed the Azure Knight and claimed Soul Edge for herself. It was within her grasp.

Then, into her eyes, she saw the face of Rothion, of Patroklos, and baby Pyrrha. All other pretenses fled from her mind. She was a humble baker's daughter, little different than when she had first left Athens seven years ago. She cared nothing for power beyond measure, wealth, beauty or all the great vices of the world. All she cared for was her children and her loving husband. She would much rather live the humble life of a blacksmith's wife, die and let her name fade from the pages of history. Her love for her family was all the power she needed, the knowledge that they were safe her only strength.

Harnessing that strength, she rose from her stupor. The knight was gone, and so was his companion. But she didn't fear, for she knew that the Azure Knight wasn't in the Tower. Her wound ached the closer she got to the Sword, so she let her wounds be her guide as she made her way out of the Tower and into the valley, where the warriors would have their battle. She moved through them, searching for her lord. She saw the warriors of Wolfkrone, fighting under the banner of the crowned wolf. She saw a band of masked warriors, led by the strange one she met in Istanbul four years ago. On a hill nearby, she saw a man with pale skin and fair hair, standing with a young, red-haired young girl, watching the battle with an unnatural kind of hunger in their red eyes.

Then the Azure Knight appeared, in the midst of the Wolfkrone army. No one could stand before the might of Soul Edge. Dozens were cut down in the first blow alone, and still more came, more lambs to the slaughter. From here, she saw the Azure Knight slaughter the armies of Wolfkrone. She felt safe that none could defeat him.

The Knight with Soul Calibur appeared. The two engaged in mortal combat amid the sea of warriors, the white glow against the flames of darkness. She could not get close enough, she was powerless to fly to the side of her lord: she could only look on as the Nightmare faced against the Holy Warrior. Only one would survive, only one could exist, but who would win? Would the Light of Humanity save and destroy, or would the Darkness consume all in its path?

In a brief moment, it was all over. The Azure Knight was cut down before Sophitia's eyes, and she was forced to watch as her child's future was destroyed before her eyes, she powerless to do anything about it. Beneath the shadow of the clouds, her tears flowed freely once more. She cared not who saw them or what they said: she had lost everything.

A cry broke her sorrow. Her motherly instinct told her who made that cry, and what that cry meant. It was Pyrrha; she was in pain. Heedless of all else, she ran in search of the cry, knocking aside a foul-smelling warrior from the East who cursed at her as she ran past him. It didn't matter, nothing else mattered but her child. Soldier and hero alike she pushed aside, knocking them down or kicking them out of her way; she _had_ to save her baby.

She came upon them at last. Tira was kneeling down by herself, bewailing the loss of her lord, the Azure Knight. Laying aside, quite rejected by her kidnapper, was baby Pyrrha. She was on her back, writhing about, flailing her arms and screaming at the top of her lungs. Sophitia threw aside the Last Sword and the Elk Shield and knelt before her daughter. She saw her face growing dark with black veins, her little green eyes turning yellow. She covered her eyes in sorrow, weeping at the inevitability of her loss. The Sword was destroyed, and now she would die as well. She needed Soul Edge to live, and now that it was destroyed...

_No,_ she told herself. _Not all of it._ Her hand reached up and touched the spot between her breasts. There, hidden deep within her body for seven years, was the last shard of Soul Edge. It had remained there for so long, so close to her heart it could not be removed. It ached when Soul Edge was near, it robbed her of strength, it was her compass. It would now be her child's life, Pyrrha's last hope. She saw the glint of steel from Tira's boot: there sat the dagger she had used to cut open the poor white kitten.

As she gripped the handle, taking it out of the boot of its oblivious owner, her thoughts went to her beloved Rothion. She knew her son needed her mother, but her daughter could not survive without Soul Edge. Two parents were the best, but fate had determined otherwise. Rothion would take care of Patroklos, he would continue. They were not so cursed. She gripped the handle of the dagger, placing the cold point at the soft skin of her chest.

"I love you, Pyrrha." were the last words she spoke.

Without another thought, she thrust in between her ample bosom. A fountain of blood issued from out of her heart, staining her white robes and fair skin. With both hands upon the handle of the dagger, she dragged its blade down, cutting herself open down to about a span above her navel. With her other hand, she reached into the bloody abyss of her body and pulled out a bloody mess. She reached out and placed her bloody hand upon the writhing child, then at last she ceased to move.

**-~-I-|-O-|-I-~-**

Amid the gloom of battle, the screams of dying soldiers and the cries of those who see before them an afterlife with no hope, Cassandra heard a most curious noise: curious because it was so out of place in such a hell as this. It was the cry of a child. Not a cry of hunger or thirst, or of true sadness, but just a cry. With that cry ringing in her ears, Cassandra made her way out of the hordes of the dying and dead, following the sounds of the child. What she saw broke her heart immediately: that strange little creature in red, caught between her chaotic mood swings, kneeling next to the weeping baby. To her utter and profound horror, she saw a woman, clothed in white, lying in a pool of blood just a hair's length away from the baby, her hand stretched out as if to impart one last caress to the child before death claimed her.

Before death claimed her...

"No!" Cassandra cried out. Disregarding the hideous creature bawling for the loss of her dark lord, she threw herself on to the ground, spoiling her boots in the puddle of blood, and cradled the woman's body in her arms. It was Sophitia. Her body was cold, her white clothes stained with blood that was slowly pouring out of a large, gaping hole in her stomach. On her face, permanently etched, was the ghost of sadness: her unmoving green eyes still stained with tears.

"Sophitia," she wept, as she caressed the pale, cold face of her sister. "Sophitia..." What _could_ she say? She knew Sophitia could not come back; she was not in Heaven, not in Elysium, but gone and nothing could bring her back. But how did this happen? How did it come to this?

"Sophitia..." she pressed the cold face of her sister into her bosom as she wept on her head, still golden soft even in death. She herself now began to feel as cold as ice, as if the chill of death was a plague that now infected her. She was numb all over, and felt empty and void, meaningless and futile. Her sister's family was broken, a father left to tend a baby son, a daughter kidnapped by that wretched little b*tch, and now their mother ripped from them before they even got to know her.

She pulled herself out of the embrace, oblivious to the fact that her blue jacket, boots and legs were covered in her sister's blood. She tore off her white gloves and then very gently closed Sophitia's eyes forever.

Sophitia Alexandra's face was glowing, as if she was indeed an angel.

**THE END**

* * *

**(AN: And so we have come to the end of _Sophitia: A Tale of Love_.)  
**

**(The last two parts were borrowed from _Siegfried_ and _The Last Stage of History_. I intentionally ended the story on that line, in the hope that our heroine, though she is dead, has achieved her goal. For the foreseeable future, her child is safe. Though the story ends sadly, she dies in the hope that her child is safe.)  
**

**(My story of Tira will be coming soon. Take care until then, and remember Sophitia's sacrifice.)  
**


End file.
